My daughter’s lovely mane. The softest curls in the whole world. Her locks that she did not let us touch. The tresses that could be combed only while she was asleep. The hair which could not be washed without hell breaking loose in the bathroom.
Gone. The end of an era. They will probably never grow that long again in near future. That is, till she is big enough to care for them on her own and decides to grow them.
My daughter sobbed as the barber fell them one by one, but did not protest. She was soon pacified too. With the hair went her charming feminine side. Strangers started referring to her as “he”. She suddenly seemed more restless and naughty too. Was the hair weighing her down? She saw herself in the mirror and got upset and shouted at herself.
Tunmun now keeps a commando like cloth tied on her head and pretends that it is her hair. 🙂