A couple of days ago I had a follow up appointment for my little curly mohawk. I told my hair stylist I wanted her to buzz the sides of my head. So she did. And I love it. I don't adhere to the school of thought that femininity is defined by long flowing tresses. For me personally, I feel the prettiest with short hair. I like it this short. I like how fuzzy it feels on the sides when I run my fingers through it. I like how I still have my curls. I've had people stop me in the street to tell me how much they like my hair, and I've had old men glare at me.
The best part of all of this though, is Paul. He loves me no matter what. He's expressed interest in me both growing my hair down to my feet and shaving it completely bald. If I'm happy, he's happy. He wears shirts that I make him with crooked owls on them. He is content to lounge around the house all day, watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and doing dishes with me. He makes me the happiest half bald lady on earth.