In the fourth grade, my mom let me chop my sweet, curly mess into a bowl cut. It was the 90's. I was tomboy. And I think "bowl cut" was the only short hair cut I knew about. Probably the worst fashion decision of my life--but a fourth grade hair disaster is way better than a mid-forties nip slip, so I'll count that as a lucky break.
Regardless of those horribly awkward years, I've generally kept it short. Pixies, bitch bangs, slanted bobs, haircuts my friends and I gave each other that don't have real names--I loved them all.
Like every rule, there have been exceptions. There was that time in late high school/early college, but I spent every minute of that time envying girls with hair shorter than mine (so, basically, these "long hair rebellions" never last long). It really is difficult for me to see people with shorter, sexier hair than mine. Selfish and petty, maybe, but I spent about ten years putting most of my identity into being The Girl With Short/Funky Hair (And, later, Tattoos). Might seem silly, coming from a girl raised in what is now Short Hair and Tattoo Capitol of the US, but I was the only one in my neighborhood who looked like that until just a few years ago. I was a novelty, a one-of-a-kind. Doubly so when my hair was blue. And though I now understand, and love, that my individuality runs much deeper than those ridiculous, surface things, I still love that part of me. I love being the Short Hair Girl. I love being The Girl With Tattoos. One might hear these statements and assume some kind of vanity, but you have no idea how much more time I have spent in front of a mirror since the length of my hair passed my chin. My self-image has plummeted. On good days I feel pretty solid, but on days ranging from meh to awful, I feel insanely ugly. I'm not even going to get started on body issues, but I will tell you that those have, in fact, multiplied like amoebas in a test tube. Maybe it's a bit of a leap to imply a relationship between the two--I haven't done any real studies to prove it--but my official hypothesis is that one exists.*
I've been growing my hair out since last July, when I shaved my head for the first time**. It was incredibly liberating! And also forced me to improve my posture (turns out that longer, puffy hair hides a bit of my neck slouch).
Behold! Some photos.
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| late june 2010 |
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| today, like right now |
I look like two different people.
So why the sudden urge to change? I can't say for sure, but I'll temporarily attribute it to an increased ratio of bad:good days. When they are about equal (or, preferably, good>bad), it ain't no thang. My pink hair was totally bangin' for quite a while. But now the tides have turned. And the minute I let myself look at pictures of haircuts online, I know it's too late. Plus, friends, you knew this day was coming. Honestly, I'm impressed that I've stayed my hand this long.
My appointment is scheduled at my usual place in my old hometown for June 9th. I have a few ideas, but I'm always open to suggestions. Until then, I probably have to make Daniel hide the clippers.
...For good measure, a picture of my hot pink/red hair from about two months ago (!!! wtf, hair. Why do you grow out so fast??). I really loved this one.
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| who is this bangin' ginger? |
*note to self: could this be...experiment time?
**My hair grows about 2/3'' per month. Average is 1/2''. My hair is king of growing out! Which is actually kind of a hassle.