My hair came back from Barbados with a serious case of identity crisis; it simply refused to believe it was no longer in Barbados.
I can’t blame it. My name was on the plane ticket and even I can’t believe I’m no longer there.
Since I hadn’t cut my hair in nearly six months, two weeks of sun, heat and swimming in the sea amounted to about two years of damage. So about a week ago, I decided it was time to live up to my promises to myself and cut it short. Continue reading