Cut it off. Cut it off now.

Thus has been the credo of my parents as of late. It stands to reason that they, in fact, do not like hate that I am growing my hair out. It isn’t even that long yet, but already their protests are mounting. I, personally, don’t understand why there is so much fuss about it. Is it not man who looks at the outward appearance and God whom looks at the heart?

Why then should this be as highly contested as the war in Iraq? Tell me where the eternal significance is in one’s hairstyle? Is it terrible to want to try something different just out of curiosity? The answer, apparently, is yes. It must be. Otherwise there would be no reason to treat this issue as if my very salvation and / or damnation hinged upon it!

Honestly, I just don’t understand. My mom says that she wants me to keep it out of my eyes. This is my desire as well, but even when I take steps to accomplish this end, she still demands that it be cut. I shouldn’t say demand, for they haven’t forced me to cut it yet. All the same, constant nagging and not-so-very veiled threats come off the same way. I hear “You have to cut your hair” before I hear “I love you” in the morning. Now either there is something wrong with this picture or…

…nevermind. No other option. There is something wrong with this picture.


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