Being home is fantastic because I get to sleep in my bed, see my family and friends, watch a giant TV fully equipped with thousands of channels and DVR. But perhaps the best part of being home is the visit to my hairstylist!

When I was in the hospital, I went 6 weeks without washing my hair. Yes, you can be grossed out. Surprisingly, my hair is healthier than it has ever been and growing like a rag weed. And while it was growing like rag weeds, it was starting to look like them too.

So, I thought, “If I can get a new heart, why not get some new hair to match?” Well, it doesn’t “match” per se, as this hair came off some Indian woman’s head and the heart came from a teen boy. But you get what I’m saying.

One day last year I got bored of my shoulder length hair, so I decided to chop that all off into a little afro. Months later, my hair got to that awkward length where I still can’t pull it back and it doesn’t look so good when I wash-and-go. It is cute when I take the time to straighten it, but if you have ever tried to straighten an afro, you wouldn’t want to do it all that often. It’s a process.

So, I went above and beyond with 20″ extensions. Relatively, easy maintenance and effortless style. I feel like a whole new person, and at the very least I am sure there are several people who will swear I am a whole new ethnicity. Do you have any idea how many people in the Bronx think I am Dominican or Peurto Rican when I have my weaves? I’m just a third generation American, “African-American” to be specific.

The long hair is fun, although with the sternum pain still lingering you won’t catch me whipping it back and forth. I’ll leave that to Willow Smith, if she is even still relevant.

I just thought that I would change things up, and I really thought this would help me get into mindset that I really am beginning my “fresh start.” While everything has changed and it seems hard to deny, the new heart is in me. I don’t see it; I don’t feel it. Well I have the scars and such, but this is a more pleasant external reminder that things are different for me. It’s funny the difference something as simple as hair makes. India Arie argues, “I am not my hair. I am not my skin. I am the soul that lives within.” But then Lady Gaga says “I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am. I just wanna be myself and I want you to know; I am my hair.”

Such conflicting messages from such inspiring women. My conclusion: I don’t care, I feel pretty. In this society we place a lot of importance on hair, weather it be colored and straightened or all natural. Nobody can deny that fact. So, I don’t really know where I am going with this, but sometimes it’s okay so embrace social norms. They aren’t all bad. #longlivethelonghair (well, not too long because the install is only good for two months)