The other day, I went into my bathroom with a pair of kitchen scissors, wanting to trim off my dead ends. When I stepped out of my bathroom, my hair was seven inches shorter. I’d incidentally given myself a college bob — which is, essentially, just a long bob — and, in turn, got some clarity on how I approached relationships.
Now, I’ve been wanting to cut my hair short for months. I’ve been flirting with the idea of a bob since late 2025, but after spending years growing out my hair, I was too scared to actually get one. However, I recently found myself in a talking stage with a man, and I randomly asked him if I should get a bob — having no intention of actually getting one. And his response was not what I was expecting, to say the least.
Immediately after getting that text, I knew what I had to do. I picked up my kitchen scissors, walked into my bathroom, and immediately started to chop my hair off. I’ve always hated having a man tell me what to do (or what not to do), and this was the push I needed to finally cut my hair. And so, I did.
And as I was cutting my hair shorter and shorter, initially intending on a simple trim, I came to a striking realization — hair holds memories. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve found it really hard to get over my previous toxic relationships. Sure, maybe I don’t miss them, but I miss the memories — and I can’t help but spend my nights wondering why I let myself get treated so poorly for so long.
Truthfully, I felt like I was in need of some major change in my life in order to move on and accept that I’ve grown; I’m a different person now. So, when I started cutting off more and more inches of my hair, I reminded myself that this was the start of my growth process.Â
When I walked out of my bathroom, sporting my fresh college bob, I felt so good about myself. Sure, my hair was choppy and uneven, and my sink was covered in hair, but I felt truly confident about myself for the first time in years. I’d been trying to grow my hair out for over five years, and I felt like by finally letting go of my long hair, I was letting go of my past, too.Â
Throughout the day, I was scared that I’d wake up in the morning and look in the mirror regretfully, wishing I hadn’t cut my hair. But, I didn’t. Truth be told, my life has been so much easier since cutting my hair: My showers are faster; it takes less than half the time to style it than it did when it was long, and my hair doesn’t hurt my scalp when I put it in a ponytail anymore. I found myself wondering why I hadn’t cut my hair years ago — but I immediately knew the answer.
I spent years being afraid of cutting my hair because I knew that it would mean letting go of my past and the girl I once was. To me, cutting my hair was symbolic of finally letting go of my past relationships. Not just the people themselves, but I was also letting go of the version of me who stayed too long, who kept hoping things would change, who cried constantly because of a boy’s actions. With every inch of hair that fell into the sink, it felt like I was shedding the weight of these memories — the late-night overthinking, the unanswered questions, the love I gave that I never quite received back.Â
That boy never texted me back after telling him I cut my hair. He didn’t even see a picture of what it looked like, either — he just ghosted me without looking back. And old me? She would’ve cried hysterically, wishing she’d never grabbed those scissors in the first place. But now? It just made me laugh. If a man can’t handle me with a few inches chopped off my hair, he definitely doesn’t deserve to be with me.
And, maybe it’s weird to say, but I honestly have started thinking about my exes a lot less since chopping my hair. It feels like a reminder that I don’t need anyone else’s opinion when it comes to my own life — especially not a man’s.
At the end of the day, hair holds memories. And by finally giving myself “the big chop,” I was finally able to accept that I’m no longer that broken, sad girl I used to be. Instead, I’m a girl who’s finally moved on and doesn’t revolve her life around men anymore — just with seven inches of her hair missing.