I don’t feel pretty, I feel free.

Never had a big butt or boobs. All I really had was a “pretty face” and my granny told me when I was as young as I can remember, “You cute but it’s always going to be prettier girls than you. And you got it hard but its always somebody that got it harder than you, so don’t think your looks or what you go through gon’ get you far. It’s your heart. You got to be humble.” And now, without my hair I don’t feel pretty at all. A friend told me I need to beat my face everyday so I can “still show how bad” I am and I considered it but for what? I am comfortable with my acne scars, my wild eyebrows, and invisible top lip. I know I’m not pretty anymore. Someone else may still think I am but I don’t. I don’t feel pretty at all! I feel free. And freedom feels better than any thing I’ve ever known. Not saying one needs to cut their hair to achieve this liberty. What needs to be cut are false notions and attachments to frills that have nothing to do with who you want to be.