Maybe you, like me, suffer from tonsurephobia. Fearing haircuts is a legitimate anxiety because one's appearance directly affects self-esteem and personal identity.

On the first day of middle school, I cut my hair from my buttocks to my shoulders. Incapable of styling my own hair and battling teenage insecurity, I spent many nights crying and many years believing that I wasn't pretty with short hair.

For the past ten years, my philosophy has been 'long hair, don't care.' However, my steady appearance was incongruent with my life's metamorphosis.

Over the past year, several building blocks of my identity have been tumbled. Who am I and who I want to be, were legitimate, haunting questions.

One might say I regressed; childishly poking at my decisions asking why? For example, why was I afraid of short hair? Why was I so comfortable with long hair?

Well, for one, I struggled with acne. Pimples were public enemy number one! Therefore, I shirked away from shorter hairstyles that might showcase my pizza face.

Secondly, I wasn't proud of my body. Okay, so there are still days where I hiss at bikinis and my thighs make jeans a tight squeeze.

Yet, my body image has positively and gradually improved. When dressing for a day at the office or a night out, I now think of Tori Kelly's lyrics, "God made me sexy/ I don't care if only I know."

Likewise, I wasn't a hot commodity in middle or high school. Shocker, I know.

Guys interacted with me solely in a classroom setting. Though I had no shortage of crushes, my affections were unreturned. Truly, I can hardly blame them because I was a hormonal mess then and probably still am.

Then, once the opposite sex noticed that I existed, they paid gushy compliments like, "I love your long hair." Unsurprisingly, I associated romantic, male attention with my hair length.

During my personal inventory, the aforementioned reasons against cutting my hair seemed flimsy.

Sure, my complexion has cleared, my physique can be described as 'healthy' and males occasionally pay homage. I decided that regardless of my circumstances, I was done allowing my hair length to define me.

So snip-snip, a pile of my hair carpets the salon's floor. I look in the mirror; familiarizing myself with the new me.

Hi, Confidence, nice to meet you!