‘You sure’ Johnny asks me as I hand him the scissors.
‘Just do it, but don’t cut me please’ I say watching him snip away at the first wristband that had only been on for the past month. Then he went for the second, and finally the third. And suddenly that was it, I was no longer this girl with wristbands on my arm. There was nothing.
‘Do you still love me?’ I joked as he hadn’t known me without a wristband on, for my year in New Zealand my wristband was my piece of home.
So why cut them off?

I had decided I wanted to cut them off soon a few weeks ago, and then I booked a tattoo and it clicked. Get the tattoo, cut the wristbands off. Growth. It felt like a fresh start, a newer me in a weird/odd way. They were only wristbands I hear you cry. But they had more sentimental value behind them. I’d always envisioned myself as the person with piercings, tattoos and the arm full of wristbands. I had three and suddenly I felt like they weren’t for me anymore.

Its amazing how as you grow as a person things become detached from you that once were a part of your identity. And suddenly my wrists were bare, and I didn’t feel regret as I stared at them cut off on my bed. All three, one battered and discoloured from being there 3 years and another so fresh and shiny from just being put on. And as I stare at them, I feel nothing but happiness for the girl with the wristbands who thought it made her look cooler, who thought it made her. If youd have said 3 years ago id of cut them off I would have laughed.

But that’s the beauty of growth, it hits you at many different points in your life and you have to embrace it with open arms.