Well, I’ve put my money where my mouth is. After many posts advising you (our readers) to expand your comforts zones, I’ve broken through a huge barrier in mine: I cut my hair.

Each of us must determine our own path. While a haircut might seem pretty mundane, it was a hurdle I never thought I’d clear in killing my ego. My childhood awkward phase was aggravated by an unfortunate bowl cut after which my mother resorted to getting my ears pierced to tip off the grocery clerk that I was not her son. The kids at school called me Edward because I looked like a boy. It was terrible. Once my hair finally grew out, I clung to it for dear life. My femininity and beauty were all wrapped up in having long hair. My appearance was the sum of my parts, my hair being one of the greatest contributors to that total. In my case, insecurity bred vanity; I never thought I’d cut my hair.

In the last few weeks, I realized how attached I’ve been to my hair. So attached that the mere thought of getting my hair cut short brought on the rumblings of an anxiety attack. I could hardly entertain the thought of a haircut, let alone actually go through with it. I decided enough was enough. I was being held hostage by my hair. Time for a haircut.

Laura accompanied me to the salon yesterday. She was very helpful in keeping my calm and not letting me get wrapped up in imagining how ugly and horrible I would look. Once the stylist chopped off the long part (twelve inches!) I started to relax. The ball was rolling and it was too late to stop it.

I’m so happy I cut my hair. I feel lighter in more ways that one. My hair is gone and I didn’t transform into a boy or an asexual child! I can be pretty, not just have pretty hair. This may seem frivolous, but sometimes we cling to the little things because they’re easier to dismiss. When I told people I was getting my haircut as part of my personal growth, many of them thought it was strange. They said, “It doesn’t matter if your hair is long or short, so why cut it?” I cut it because it mattered tremendously to me. My long hair was like a security blanket. It was like a badge of feminine honor (my hair is longer than your hair, I win). It had to go. If only all ego slaying was as simple as a haircut.

I challenge you to take a look at the little attachments you have and break them (I’d never wear…… I always buy……. My hair will always be……). Those small external attachments can be difficult to break because they directly affect how we are perceived by others. Passersby will probably not notice your latest meditation breakthrough, but dye your hair green and they’ll stare. It’s easy to say that appearances are impermanent when someone else’s appearance is in question.

How could I expect to reach spiritual maturity if I couldn’t even stomach a haircut? What attachments are holding you back?