I haven’t blogged in ages. I haven’t really blogged as a big part of my life in years. I haven’t written anything at all in awhile, and I certainly haven’t written anything down before 10am. This isn’t my big, “Hey, I’m blogging again!” announcement. This is just too crazy not to blog. While lying in bed last night I kept thinking about what I was going to write today. I couldn’t stop thinking about this whole experience in the third person. Like I wasn’t even the one doing it.
My entire life people always told me things like, “I wish I had your hair.” and “You are so lucky to have a head of hair like that.” I have very fast growing, thick and strong hair. It doesn’t mess easily and is somewhat bedhead resistant. Still having so much hair is a lot of work, the washing and the brushing. Ugh. So what’s the problem? Well, I never really appreciated it all that much. When it was long I sort of felt like a slave to it. When I was older, same, it was just too much work. I became the queen of the knot. The ultimate in motherhood anti-style.
At a time when there seemed to be some sort of female head shaving revolution on my facebook news feed, my hair was long. Very long. I knew I wanted shorter hair, but still didn’t have the gonads for “boy cut”. I suppose even then I knew I wanted one, but just wasn’t ready for it. If you know me, you know I don’t do anything until I’m ready. Whatever that even means. I had TJ tie my hair into a ponytail and cut my hair. I rocked this cute longish A-line for awhile. This was my short haircut. In a flash, my high maintenance hair became… SOMEWHAT high maintenance hair! And really, super cute. I loved this haircut, for a while. Then, it was boring and too easy to tie back every day.
I went to the local stylist in January of 2012 and had her stick to the same cut, but even shorter. I didn’t really like it. I’m sure it was a nice cut, but why is it that almost every time I go to a stylist I’m not entirely happy with what happens to my head? I think there’s only one person who cut my hair that I was really happy with. (Yeah, Brookie!) Though, it’s probably my control freak tendencies. If I fuck up my hair I can rationalize the shit out of it. If someone else fucks up my hair? It’s not even rationalizeable at all. It’s a bad haircut. (Totally, sorry to all my hairdressers who may or may not be reading this. It’s all my fault. I’m a terrible client.)
I decided I needed to go for it. I’d thought about having short hair all my life, but afraid of not looking like a girl, afraid of not being pretty. What the fuck is that? Afraid of not being pretty?! Like, pretty is some sort of requirement to being human? It makes me cringe just writing it.
So with TJ’s help, this is what I ended up with. I love this haircut so much. The entire time I had that cut, I felt like it was the cut I was meant for. Like I should have come from the womb, with that exact haircut. It’s the best haircut I’ve ever had. It’s fierce, badass, but still cute, girly, pretty. Shit. Not what I was going for.
It wasn’t enough. I needed to go further. I needed to experience having no hair. I needed to challenge every standard of hair styled beauty I’ve ever known. I needed to challenge traditional standards of female beauty and society’s gender standards. I needed to love myself with or without my hair. I needed to not think about whether it was pretty or not. I’m sure this is the haircut I’ll go back to in a few months, but for now I’m rocking a crew cut.
If you’ve always had a lot of hair, and you’re wondering if it’s as hard as you think it is to shave all your hair off, the answer is Yes. Yes it is. There is one thing I’ve pretty much always had, bangs. And one thing I’ve had for a very long time, pink hair. Shaving just the top of my head still felt I was shaving all hair I ever had, off. When I turned off the clippers I realized it wasn’t the clippers causing vibrations in my hands. I was actually shaking. I shaved from the back and moved forward until I has once tiny piece of my pink bangs left, then… gone. I totally felt a huge surge of adrenaline which immediately exhausted me. I hopped in the shower for the most GLORIOUS shower I have ever taken. (Fellow head shavers totally know what I’m talking about!)
I feel naked, completely exposed, vulnerable and I’m transitioning from noticing my hair, to noticing my face and trying to love what I see. When I wanted this experience I really had no idea what I was in for. It hasn’t even been a day and I feel like, it’s been just that, an experience!
TLDR: I just really wanted to know what it was like to have a shaved head. Now I know.