I know I am controlling, and try to put you in your place constantly, but even when I do it carefully, you still decide to break free, do your own thing, regardless of where we are, who we are with or what we are doing.
If I am honest, you've changed, a lot. You have really let yourself go, and it's not just me that has noticed it, others have pointed it out to me too. I tell them I know, and that I'm going to do something about it, but I never do.
And that's why, it's over. Done. Finished.
The last straw came when we were in bed a while back. I was tired, in pain, couldn't get comfortable, and I'm still not sure how you managed it, but you ended up trapping me where I lay. I had to wiggle free carefully, hurting myself in the process, and THEN had to untie myself from the headboard.
That was the last straw. It really was.
I know once you realise it's over, you will just accept it, but I do still love you - you've just outgrown me. I know that in time, someone else will love you - they will love you so much MORE than I ever could. To me, I suppose you were just an accessory... To someone new, you will be a new lease of life.
That's what I am aiming for, to make you more useful for another.
To that end, in a few short hours, you'll be gone. We'll both be different, I am sure of it, but it's for the best.
I'm sure the hairdresser will remove you very carefully, and then we will send you off to become wigs for children undergoing chemotherapy. The money I've raised having you cut off will go towards beating cancer, and saving the lives of children at the Evelina Children's Hospital.
And I will have short hair again.
Goodbye, my long hair, it's been fun - but I won't miss finding you in dinner. In the bed. In the hoover. On the side. Bloody everywhere, in fact!
I am over the moon that, including Gift Aid, I've raised over £1000 for ECHO and Cancer Research UK.
|CLICK TO DONATE!|
Not that my hair will improve my looks, but you get the idea.
So, I've just washed it for the last time ever. I HATE washing it too - I have to brush it, use a shit-ton of shampoo on it, then spend ages rinsing it, then after a shower it takes all fricking day to dry... And it's always bloody knotted too.
I last had a hair cut at the end of January 2005, just before Bethany went into hospital for the last time. After I lost her, I decided there and then to remove my goatee (she HATED it!) and to not cut my hair again. But I believe that now, cutting it, I can give a little something back to the hospital that cared for her brilliantly, give back to the charity that helped me understand her neuroblastoma, and even by donating the hair, give children that need wigs a new lease of life. I don't feel bad that I am cutting it off... I am certain should would most definitely approve of my methods in fact.
So here's to today, by doing one simple act, with a little bit of sacrifice on my part, I can help so many people. Which was always Bethys legacy - she bought so many people together.
I See You Baby, and know you approve.