There comes a time when your life goes for a toss & the monotony starts getting to you. You desperately start looking for change. Any change. Then you look at yourself in the mirror and realise that you haven’t experimented with your tresses in a long while… And that’s when you decide, it’s Hair-Cut time. You spend hours on the internet, searching for celebrity hair-styles, trying to find the one that’ll look really good on you. And then you finally find one that was made just for you. On D Day, you pump yourself up and go “Fuck it! I’m doing this.” But you walk into your saloon and the stylist goes, “Ma’am, we can do only 2 or 3 things with your hair. Nothing else will suit your face.” You collapse like a house of cards. You tell him/her not to cut them too short, not to leave them too long, but not compromise with the style. And then look at their faces sheepishly. Then you close your eyes and let go. It’s the moment of truth. You open your eyes and you see a completely new person. Dang. Isn’t she a looker? With the blow-dried hair which smell of the sweet fragrance of shampoo? You walk out of the saloon, ready to face the world. And the compliments start pouring in. And you go.. But after a week, when you wash your hair with your ‘not-so-sweet-smelling-shampoo,’ you get a bitter reality check… And you realize that you’re missing something. Your hair. Your beautiful, lustrous, long hair. Are gone. You almost have a nervous breakdown but keep yourself in check. There’s always next time…