Vanity
Seriously, can I tell you how much I love my new hair?
For years (decades) I was convinced that my long hair was not just crucial to my self-identity, but one of the only things I liked about my appearance. I wasn't beautiful, or sexy, I didn't have perfect skin, I wasn't busty, I was too thin for people who like curvy girls and too heavy for people who like petite little waifs, but I had pretty long hair. Never long enough, or thick enough, but.... long. Pretty. Shiny. I wore it down every chance I got, and decorated it with baubles and trinkets when I couldn't, and promised myself that I'd never cut it, and pinned most of my self-esteem on it.
And three weeks ago I chopped it all off. And it wasn't as scary as I thought it'd be, though I also admit that for the first several days it didn't feel quite real - more like a costume that I'd eventually be able to take off and go back to looking like me.
But it's been almost a month now, and I can't get over just how awesome this is. I'm still learning just what to do with it (texturizer is a must; odd for someone who's never put product in her hair since the Great Bangs of the 1980s) and how I can and can't style it (sleek? yes. messy? yes. rag curls? hilariously no), and what I honestly and for true look like with it.
And I think that's the crux of it. For the first time in adult memory, I'm actually looking at myself and seeing myself honestly, instead of looking at a mirror or picture and just confirming my own preconceived mental image of what I expect to see there. I look different, and that's making me look and think and reassess instead of just continuing to repeat toxic mental patterns that were ingrained way too long ago.
I don't know where I'll go from here. Maybe I'll grow it back out eventually. Maybe I'll keep it pixie-short for the next year or so. Hell, maybe I'll go back to my natural color and then bleach it and dye the front wisps robin's-egg blue. No matter what, it's going to be pretty damn awesome....
For years (decades) I was convinced that my long hair was not just crucial to my self-identity, but one of the only things I liked about my appearance. I wasn't beautiful, or sexy, I didn't have perfect skin, I wasn't busty, I was too thin for people who like curvy girls and too heavy for people who like petite little waifs, but I had pretty long hair. Never long enough, or thick enough, but.... long. Pretty. Shiny. I wore it down every chance I got, and decorated it with baubles and trinkets when I couldn't, and promised myself that I'd never cut it, and pinned most of my self-esteem on it.
And three weeks ago I chopped it all off. And it wasn't as scary as I thought it'd be, though I also admit that for the first several days it didn't feel quite real - more like a costume that I'd eventually be able to take off and go back to looking like me.
But it's been almost a month now, and I can't get over just how awesome this is. I'm still learning just what to do with it (texturizer is a must; odd for someone who's never put product in her hair since the Great Bangs of the 1980s) and how I can and can't style it (sleek? yes. messy? yes. rag curls? hilariously no), and what I honestly and for true look like with it.
And I think that's the crux of it. For the first time in adult memory, I'm actually looking at myself and seeing myself honestly, instead of looking at a mirror or picture and just confirming my own preconceived mental image of what I expect to see there. I look different, and that's making me look and think and reassess instead of just continuing to repeat toxic mental patterns that were ingrained way too long ago.
I don't know where I'll go from here. Maybe I'll grow it back out eventually. Maybe I'll keep it pixie-short for the next year or so. Hell, maybe I'll go back to my natural color and then bleach it and dye the front wisps robin's-egg blue. No matter what, it's going to be pretty damn awesome....