The hair that is here.

It is a peculiar thing, a girl's hair. Many of us swear by a shampoo, are mortifyingly loyal to our stylists and have developed a daily routine that includes elaborate styling equipment as well as many cute jars of product. So it is no surprise that the way hair looks can tell you a lot about the girl sporting it. For a long time I had little choice about how my hair looked. My mom would just braid it and send me off to school. I would get one haircut a year, which basically consisted of my mom taking a pair of scissors and snipping off half of the braid. Lovely.
At fifteen I was able to get my first professional haircut. I made up for lost time by charging up 150 dollars worth of highlights, the cut and deep conditioning. That was the end of my professional haircuts for a while and I resorted to my beloved Colorsilk hair dye for 2.99 at Target. It was a lovely, changing my appearance on a monthly basis just by plopping on a little dye and waiting 30 minutes. I began to experiment with different colors and my long red locks became somewhat of a trademark, an illustration of my personality.
The length of hair is also a telling factor, long hair is representative of beauty while short hair gives the girl a little extra sass. I have for too long subscribed to the idea that in order to look my best, be the most attractive I have to sport a long thick mane of multi-tonal hair. Short hair is cute, fun for the summer, but every girl covets the look of long long locks being splashed back from her face by the playful summer wind. The internalization of such standards of beauty is what caused me to be mortified and balling my hands into fists of rage when an ex-boyfriend accidentally cut my hair to a painfully short length. It was even with my ears, and highly unattractive as far as I was concerned. I hate to put it in writing but the real reason that I was so aghast when I saw the damage was that I had a picture perfect scenario, a wedding scene, in which i come down from a balcony with lusciously wavy strands of hair flowing far down my back. That insane picture, the image of my assumed "wedding perfection bliss" was no longer possible for many years after that hair cut. It upset me so much for some reason that if I had wanted to, I would not be able to get married in that way for at least 4 years. I had lost hope of being a perfect and beautiful bride.
So recently, I have been thinking about my hair and how it portrays me as a person. Incidentally, my hair was finally at a length where it could be manipulated back into that picture of wedding perfection. However, as my hair had grown out during the last 4 years, I had also outgrown that idea of perfection. Thankfully I no longer let hair length for a phantom future wedding dictate the choices I make with it now. It seems almost laughable that I was planning out my wedding hair instead of planning out my next 5 years in terms of career, location and financial stability. But that is how young and naive I was in college. What mattered then- friends, fun, freedom are still valued today, but the basis for their quantifiable measurement has changed drastically. I measure quality of friendships by how much they push me to grow as a person and how much they inspire me to be more than I am today. Fun can mean partying, but it can also mean painting together, cooking dinner, taking a walk, more wholesome things. Freedom- well, instead of wanting to rebel and fight off every piece of advice from parents I seek it and listen thoroughly, realizing the value behind the words of wisdom and travel, true world travel is now the epitome of a freeing experience.
But I digress, back to hair, before my recent haircut I was contemplating shaving a part of my head. I had toyed with the idea for a few months before truly settling on the idea. After all, when else in life will I be able to sport a half-shaved head. Why wait when you can do it now. Respice Finem, live in the moment. So I tossed all hesitation and doubt aside in the same corner that I threw away my traditional concepts of beauty and went for it. I LOVE it. It was such a liberating experience, the feel of freshly buzzed hair, looking at the incredibly long strands that littered the floor like wounded battle soldiers and seeing myself in a new and more exposed light was thrilling. I could not help but think of that wedding hair image that I had in my mind, it will take many years now to achieve that look. That is probably a good thing. If I let go of those expectations, the need to find someone, the need to settle, the need to conform to the average, the standards no longer apply to me. I am now free.
The repercussions of the haircut- well, I scared some of my students. Some probably think that I am a lesbian, and many told me it looked strange and ugly. Had I been any less confident in my choice I would have taken their comments to heart. But I realize that my new haircut just rocked their perception of male and female stereotypes. I can't wait to see what my mom thinks of it. All in all, I am very happy with the decision, infact, I want more cut off. It is a adrenaline rush to hear those buzzing clippers coming at me, knowing that whatever I look like will not change who I am a person. The outside me may look different, and perhaps be treated differently to a degree, but as a new chapter in my life begins I am excited to show a new face to the world.