I never realized how insecure I was about my beauty, or rather how I defined beauty, until I cut my hair.
I had been growing my hair out since I graduated college in 2008. I had always envied women who had luscious hair that they would actually curl and whatnot. Though I never fully got to the point of actually curling my hair, I did find a lot of my sense of beauty from my hair.
And then this year happened. I had been thinking of my cutting my hair for awhile. Could I do it? Could I pull it off? I never thought I was so vain. And yet, it’s more than vanity.
Cutting my hair is a declaration. I wanted to slap my insecurity in the face. I wanted to prove that yes, I could cut my hair short and I could still be beautiful. My hair doesn’t define my beauty or my worth. It’s just hair. It’s ornamental. So, I shaved those insecure bits off of me today.
So while I sit and stare in a mirror and question, what have I done? And glare at the bits of me that I don’t like (ugh, my neck and why are my ears not twins?!), God reminds me that I am victorious — I did something that I was afraid to do, and in that act, He reminded me that I am fearfully, wonderfully made.