Haha. Get it? Light-headed?
So, I got a haircut recently. I asked the lady at the salon to cut off four whole inches!
I don’t know about you, but that was a pretty big deal for me. I used to be really uncomfortable with simply changing my hair part.
It took a long time for me to muster the courage to get my hair cut. I had been contemplating it since the middle of the summer. The plan was to go to summer camp, dramatically dip dye it pink like I had done once in the past, and then flaunt it for a couple weeks before dramatically chopping off a few inches. I never got around to dip-dying it; I could never bring myself to get it cut either. Thus, my already long hair grew even longer, almost to an unreasonable length. It fell all the way down my back, and I was starting to feel concerned.
Is it just an urban myth that long hair sucks nutrients that would otherwise be going to other parts of your body? The idea of that creeped me out. I was also seeking a drastic change in my life.
Hair, is something that probably grows back. I didn’t even go full bold; I just cut off enough so that it didn’t take three full hours to dry my hair. But it was enough that I can run my fingers through my hair and have it end much sooner than planned. It’s enough so that I can’t braid it to exaggerated lengths or twist it 17 times into a bun, or fishtail it into oblivion.
I honestly have no clue how haircuts function for boys. Is it just a ritual, an every-four-weeks thing? Is there any significance? Upon reading books, I feel as though younger boys with softer personalities tend to have long, curling hair. People in the army shave their heads, and nerdy boys have bowl cuts. Anyone want to comment on that?
For girls, I feel like long hair is commonly associated with femininity. But what am I talking about? My hair is still plenty long. Besides, short hair can be 100% feminine too. Too often, I feel as though short hair is seen as empowered, which I suppose I understand. But at the same time, some people just like short hair because its easier to deal with. So in some instances, it’s overkill to try to seek deeper meaning.
It’s nothing more than hair – it’s dead, I felt nothing as it was cut. But you know when something happens, and you take it more seriously than you are supposed to? When some trivial event seems to have some sort of larger significance for your life? A turning point? A pivotal point?
It seems like one of those days.
The roots of my hair are pitch black – dark as night; the individual strands are thick and heavy. When my hair hits the sunlight, it turns dark brown. The individual strands are speckled with a few dust particles; they look almost translucent.
My hair has been through many exciting journeys.
In fourth grade, it endured days of endless dandruff, whose flakes and particles were finally banished with a medicated shampoo.
In sixth grade, it was dyed red, with streaks running all through my hair.
Since then, it has battled multiple dye-jobs, both professional and amateur; last summer, the ends were tinged electric pink.
Having long hair is weird. Males wonder if it’s a hassle. Does it get caught in hooks? Does it tangle? I think my ethnicity sort of comes into play; I can say with confidence that my hair rarely gets tangled.
I have no incentive to drastically cut my hair. It’s really an issue of facial proportion, and I think I have one of those faces that just looks better with long hair. Girls with short hair are easily mischaracterized as feminists or radicalists, when in reality some just don’t enjoy the weight, or are following the newest fads (bobs, pixie cuts).
Long hair means braids: a constant distraction for my restless fingers.
It means messy buns and simple ponytails and swishing it through the air every chance I get. It means sympathizing with other girls with straight hair and wishing for curly hair while the curly-haired girls watch us with envy of our stick-straight hair.
It means sleeping in braids and waking up to beautifully crimped hair,
It means pure joy the first time you buy a curling iron.
Yet, my inability to walk into a hair salon and request a cut indicates that I am afraid of change! I can’t even gather the courage to change the part in my hair. The minuscule risk of it not looking as good as it could be gets blown up, and deters me from allowing my hair to change.
I am still conflicted as to whether or not I should finish out the summer with ridiculously long locks, or to make the big move.