Monday, July 23, 2012

As Free As The Hair Grows

I have a long-standing contempt for people who refuse to cut their hair out of fear.

What's the big deal, anyway?

It is only hair.

That is my latest motto: it is only hair. Which is really helping me work through my silly resentment at having hair that doesn't "match" me.

A haircut (and I mean a hairCUT, not a trim, not getting two more highlights, not adding a feather) can be so liberating!

It can feel like the beginning of a whole new life.

A cleansing, even.

In my experience, women who are not afraid to make length-altering changes to their hair are women I enjoy. Women unafraid of the future. Confident women.

Which is why, when I begin to get attached to my own hair; to take comfort in its boringness; to feel frantic at the thought of changing it,

I know it is time to hack it off.

Luckily I had this revelation mid-trim, and so told my beautician, "You know what? Just cut it off!"

And she did. Quickly. Before I could change my mind.

And I am determined to love it not because it makes me more attractive (because, sadly, it does not), but because I made the decision and I'm sticking to it.

There was something in the deciding that made me newly unconcerned about whether or not I look like a grandma. Or an actress from Flash Dance.

I like to imagine that along with my split ends go my bad attitudes and pessimisms of the last two years. All the resentments I have pent up since last I had my hair cut: magically erased! (I tell myself)

If nothing else, it feels wonderful.

Every time I wash it, I can almost hear it singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

When I dry it, it sighs in contentment.

My curls affectionately embrace one another, and are behaving better than they have in months.

And when I look in the mirror, I have to giggle that my hair looks as though it has been set free.

Observe the before and afters:

Does my new-found hair apathy mean that I will stop complaining about my hair?


You've got to fill those conversational lulls somehow.


Stephanie said...

I remember you complaining about your hair back in middle school - some of it was straight and some was curly. I always loved your hair. We always want what we don't have. Living here in the humidity capital of the world (at least this summer) I am experiencing some of your hair drama and longing for my straight locks instead of the ringlets around my face and friz all around. My fear of hair is not the cutting, it's the dying. My dad had a secretary who went bald because of hair dying!