locks fall off

Snip. Snip.
I can feel the blades carve into the thin extension of what use to be my history. All together, tightly bound with a green rubber band, the kind you use to see on your morning paper. There it all lay in front of me lifeless and detached after so many years; my long blond hair. I wanted it all gone, all off. I needed to feel all of gross past being lifted off me like sin; a new start. I was going for Jean Seberg circa 1967 or Mia Farrow from Rosemary's Baby. Let the gender bending begin. I've always had the face for hair this short. I've had it this short when i was young...twice. I looked like a boy every time and yet i kept coming back for more. Third times the charm. Stupidly I kept it long to please him.

Fuck you men, here i am. Yes i had the balls to be "less feminine", to part with the matel barbie you made of me in your tasteless culture of global trash. Now instead of seeing a blond sex symbol you will first ask yourself if i am gay, just because you are that pathetic. Face it, women with looks and short hair scare you. It's our way of visually telling you that you can't pull our hair in bed, you won't have your way with us in your shallow head. My long flowing locks that once sat at my bust reveal who i am now and no long hid my existence. I will not submit to you moronic truths that have forged themselves on to the very way i look. You will have to deal with me, with the bare reality of who i am. No grand facade of whatever that latest victoria's secret magazine or GQ instilled into that cave man gray matter you received for brains.

Fuck you if you don't like it. it's because you don't know what a real woman should look like anymore that your member is limp and confused. It's because you don't want an equal but rather someone that will submit to your thigh-highed fantasies. I don't and never will. I need to have honesty and transparent truth in life and love and existence. I need to visually force you to see me so one day the visual sense can translate to the emotional and you will see the real me. The black or white me, the no gray area me that swims in loyalty and drinks passion. I am not the plastic and pink bullshit that America manufactured in a catalog. I'm that girl you call a European elitist because you are too uneducated and insecure about yourself.