Done with Hairdressers!

For years I've paid hairdressers to cut and set my hair and more recently dye it, though my cousin remembers me as a teenager returning from the hairdressers and immediately washing my hair, which in our house meant soaping your head under the kitchen sink faucet--there was no shower in our bathroom.  I've always hated going to the hairdresser.

I have now freed myself from the detested ritual: I cut my own hair.  And I no longer dye it.  Every time I cut my own hair I feel an overwhelming sense of freedom.  No longer do I have to lean back in the chair and place my neck in the punishing notch of the tray at the sink for the preparatory shampoo; no longer do I have to make small talk with the hairdresser; no longer do I have to look at my face in the huge mirror, though my face has held up pretty well.  No longer do I have to submit to the blow-dryer.  And I love not having to spend the money. Though I went to the hairdressers infrequently, the bill and the tips added up.  

It was so easy to stop, but not as easy as refusing to wear high-heeled shoes and skirts.  The shoes hurt; I never looked good in skirts.  Is there another freedom in reach--and then another?  What other restraints may I throw off?  What habits of mind?  Let me think about it. I'll be reporting back soon.