I cut my hair last night and when I mean cut I don’t mean trimmed like most people, I mean I cut off enough to make me dizzy when I stood up. I cut off so much that my first “Wow” in the mirror scared my hairdresser because she thought I didn’t like it but it was followed by a “WOW! WOW WOW WOW OH MY GOSH!” so I guess I fixed that problem as soon as I created it. I cut off so much you could felt a full grown dog.
I’ve always had a problem with cutting my hair short, because just like everyone else I’m worried about peoples perceptions of me. I’m fat and have had a double chin since BEFORE I was fat (I was a weird looking kid, all skinny with short arms and a double fucking chin) so I worry how I’ll look.
Because let’s be honest when you’re fat you know what short hair does, it gets rid of that extra layer you use to hide yourself. Without it? The world is fully aware of what your neck and chin are doing and you have to be ready for that. Because despite it all we’re still self conscious and even though I’ve spent my whole life reminding my friends and family about how lucky they are to have me I still have doubts when it comes to my 30 year old rolly polly body.
But the only way to face a problem is head on and that’s how I’m doing it.
I used to cower and wait until things hit me and then took care of then, I don’t have time to do that anymore. That’s how I see it. We all have a finite time on this earth and wasting time hiding is exactly that, a waste. But not everyone can do that and I am more than understanding when it comes to people who simply have to take each day at a time; bless ya’ll, seriously, ya’ll are stronger than you even know.
One day I’ll have the balls to get a pixie cut, because that’s the dream, and I see other ladies with potato shaped heads and lumpy celery shaped bodies rocking them and I seethe with jealousy. SEETHE WITH JEALOUSY. Because those ladies? Those ladies get to wake up in the morning, shake their head and get on with their days. When my hair was longer sometimes I would go a week without brushing it because it hurt so much to brush. Then of course it’d be a fucking rats nest and it’d hurt even more.
Now I have cut all of my hair off before and just like with dying my hair it usually happens around a time of great stress. The first time was 2001 and it was right after I started highschool and a month after 9/11.
The second time was probably 2008 and I was working 3 jobs and got my hair stuck in a U-Boat (Not a Russian Submarine, but a stupid cart that has U shaped handles to move stock in a store) and got so pissed off that I got on a bus and went to Supercuts and had them chop it off. I was miserable until it grew out. (See picture below)
(That zit on my face got infected about 3 days after this picture was taken and now I have a giant scar. Also note the eyeshadow that matches my t-shirt and the dark eyeliner on the bottom lid.)
This time I think it’s just me changing, the stress is more subtle but it’s there and I think much like the very first time I just need to let something go and my hair was the closest thing I could.
Mi esposo says he doesn’t care but I know he does, he likes long hair on women and that’s just his preference. But he knows how hard this was for me and he’s happy that I’m happy (he also says “It’ll grow back” and I don’t have the heart to tell him that this could be the norm for a whiiiiilllle).
Anyway, this is me:
My god I do look grown up.
A very good friend told me it made me look 10 years younger, well that photo above is ten years ago and I look nothing like that dork (DORK). I look exactly my age, like a millennial who may or may not be the love child of Dana Carvey and Courtney Cox.