Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.
“Your hair! Your beautiful hair!” “O Jo, how could you? Your one beauty.” “My dear girl, there was no need of this.” “She doesn’t look like my Jo anymore, but I love her dearly for it!”
As everyone exclaimed, and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, Jo assumed an indifferent air, which did not deceive anyone a particle, . . . rumpling up the brown bush and trying to look as if she liked it.
--Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
Ever since I first read that passage as a young girl with waist-length hair, I’ve wanted to sell or donate my hair for wig making. The last time that I went from very long hair to very short hair, I inquired about donating my hair, but could not find information about it. (That was before everything-you-need-to-know-and-some-things-you-don’t was on the Internet.)
I did not cry, though my heart was racing and I was trembling when I felt that first cut of scissors. My agony was prolonged because the hair was cut in three fat ponytails which each took the hairdresser a long time to hack through. It did not help when the hairdresser in the next station looked over and yelled, “OH MY GOD!!!”
And the hair? It’s on its way to Locks of Love.