Shortly after writing my recent post about the couture-related challenges of being gender fluid, The Author vs. Clothing, I was inspired to go to the thrift store and pick up some dirt-cheap articles of clothing to suit my less feminine days, which turned out to be a very good decision.

And I also did one more thing.

I finally cut my hair.

Just to be clear, I didn’t get my hair cut – I cut it my damn self, armed with nothing but dull scissors, my bathroom mirror, and the knowledge that I can’t even cut paper in a straight line. And yeah, it was as much of a disaster as you’re probably imagining.

But really, it’s Pride Month, so who wants a perfectly straight haircut anyway? Continue reading “In which I break up with Japan”