Sometimes when I look at all the pretty weaves,
I reach for my hair and it's not there.

Although mine came out of my scalp and not from a bag, 
I knew that I needed a change. 
Not just bangs or a bob—radical change—
that takes me out of the "video chic" range. 

For decades, it hung on my neck and back and I didn't care;
because at the end of the day, it was really just hair.

Many cancer patients lose theirs--not by choice, 
but I was blessed to just cut mine off to complement my new voice.

So many people want to know why, 
as if my short hair offends them 
or makes me less pretty.
I strike back and say 
"Free your mind and stop being so petty!"

What is inside my head—not on it—makes me clever. 
Shorter and sharper than ever--naturally beautiful, naturally me.  

********
Author's note:
In December 2012, I cut off my long tresses. 
This poem comes out of that experience, 
particularly the reactions I received 
and receive from many people.