This past weekend, I made one of the most altering decisions a girl can make to her appearance—I cut my hair. Short. Like really short. Okay, pixie cut. To answer your questions: yes, I was sober. No, I don’t regret it. And no, I am not heartbroken (maybe just a teeny-tiny bit). All I know is, the more I and everybody—even my hairstylist—tried talking myself out of doing it, the more I wanted to do it. Why the hell not? I have been sporting different hairstyles since I was 19. Just not this extreme.
“A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.”
I stopped caring about societal standards.
Society has the notion of beauty all mixed-up. It has a way of telling us what is nice and what is not. It constantly fed us with large servings of super long and shiny black hair everywhere we look that hair rebonding has become a necessity. It dictates when we should cut our hair and what it should look like.
Cutting my hair short is my way of saying I’m done. I’m done looking in the mirror and asking if what I see is someone the people would love and approve. I’m done keeping myself off the the society has set for female. I’m done hiding my face and myself behind the once long locks of mine.
I learned to trust myself and my choices.
I’ve come to realize that most of the times, nothing good comes out of consulting anybody when it comes to your plans—even something as small as chopping off your locks. They can discourage you so convincingly that you will feel your courage starting to waver. They can make you feel bad about and doubt your choices.
I say, just do it. There’s nothing more liberating than proclaiming to the universe you are going to do whatever the fuck you want. That you are embracing your choices wholeheartedly no matter what others think of them. Believe me, I know. I cut my hair into the edgy style I’ve always wanted to try, and it felt good. What’s more, you’d be surprised by how people would take back their words once they see the result.
I can’t even begin to calculate how much time I put into washing, conditioning, combing, drying, and styling my hair. I had to wake up way early just to make sure I didn’t go to work with an air-dried hair that was as big as a balloon.
It’s simple: the shorter the hair, the shorter the time needed caring for it.
Cutting my hair is one great decision. It made me available to do something else. The time I used to spend with hairdryers are now spent on sleeping more, sometimes reading. I get to chitchat a little with my full attention to who I talk with. It made me see how big a difference a little more time can improve my every day. And now, I’m even thinking of more adventures.
I feel bolder.
Gone are the days when I used my hair as a blanket of comfort, when I was hiding behind a fake sense of protection. My face is now exposed. My neck and shoulders, too. And more importantly, my vision is wider. I feel like a whole new world has opened up for me and there are tons of beautiful things that await me. If I was able to chop off that something that made me feel safe, there’s nothing I cannot do now.
With short hair, I am stepping out of the barbed-wire cage of familiarity and stepping into the broad spectrum of greater adventure.
I feel invincible.
When a girl finally has the courage to cut her hair, she’s finally owning who she truly is. And nothing is more beautiful and invincible than someone who has the courage to say goodbye to what was to embrace what is and what will be.
I did and I am as bulletproof as I’ll ever be.