Permit me to be self-centered for a moment*
May 29, 2011 § 1 Comment
As I’ve cut off more and more of my hair, I realize that doing so gets kind of political, even if you don’t mean it to. I mean, okay, I’m white and blonde, so it’s not as charged as getting dreadlocks or shaving my head or anything, but it’s there! My haircut has a message too!
The first time I cut it short was over spring break of first** year, when I was feeling kind of daring and curious and inspired, mostly, by the movie Kit Kitteredge: An American Girl. Yes, I made a major stylistic choice because of a movie based on a doll. The 30s styles were so cute! I’d had long hair for most of high school, and my styling expertise was thus pretty much summed up in “straighten the shit out of it.” I had burns on my forehead to prove it. Alas, I didn’t really know how to deal with my newfound bob and found that it just kind of hung there, even with zealous application of bobby pins. There was a little wave to it, I guess. And it was different!
Eventually I learned about “scrunching,” which sounds way dirtier than it is, and I maintained the same style until I got back from Paris. I found myself a bit stir-crazy and Changed By My Experience, so I made a brash decision to get my hair cut by an untrained beauty student. Well. It was…a look, to be sure. I had one side curly and one side short, and the little bit at the back of my neck was long enough to irritate me and make me worry that it looked like a rat-tail.
Most recently, I’ve thrown decorum utterly to the wind and bleached it platinum, left it kind of asymmetrical, and now wear lots of scarves and headbands to disguise the mousy brown streaks that are my roots.
And why do I do these things? Well, for one, my parents are still willing to pay my salon bills (thanks, guys!). Also: my mom and little sister have both had short, cropped hairdos in more colors than a box of Skittles, and I kind of felt like busting into my own groove of semi-badassery. Besides, I have killer cheekbones, and so I can pull off this ridiculous pseudo-high-fashion thing.
But mostly, I realized that I want other people to recognize that I am the sort of girl who, somewhat paradoxically, is not that attached to her hair. Having spent a dreadful 10 days stranded with some sorority girls over my abroad experience, I learned that some people, even when in college, are forbidden to cut their hair because their mothers think that “you just won’t look as pretty!”, presumably as they wail and gnash their teeth.
Well, guess what, suckers? I can have short hair and look pretty. I am not so attached to the dead keratin cells sprouting out of my scalp that I can’t let them change. Immature? Some kind of late-onset “I’m not like them!” rebellion? Maybe. And frankly, some days I look kind of like an anemic girl-version of Draco Malfoy. But I’m learning! And trying things! Isn’t that, after all, what haircuts are all about?
That or split ends. It’s definitely one of those.
*ha ha, it’s a blog! So this is kind of a joke title