As I’m sure you can tell from my Easter pics, I’ve recently downsized my tresses. No longer do I have the equivalent of a second animal on my head, now all that mass is on its way to be made into a wig for someone who needs it more than I did. Below I have detailed my stream-of-consciousness reactions to this great loss.
As the scissors pass through your 3 ponytails (your hair is very thick), you can’t help but think that you are the most selfless human being in the general vicinity. You don’t want hair this length, but you’re being a follicle philanthropist! You are a good person. Selfless. Do you feel lighter because 5 pounds of unfeeling tissue has been removed from your head or are you just floating? Buoyant from your delightful goodness? In the mirror it isn’t so bad. It’s really not nearly as bad as you thought, but it is a little bit “sleek,” isn’t it?
2. Corporate Likeness
Walking down the street, you realize that many of the people passing you by have similar hair lengths. Many of them wear blazers, some even carry briefcases, like they’re really trying to drive home the point that they’re “professionals.” But you aren’t a professional. You can be professional, but it’s not your identity. You’re an artist! Your hair is still damn sleek, flattened by multiple washes (the first of which you did out of consideration for the stylist). You usually wash your hair no more than 3 times a week. Your hair should be big and ruffled and bohemian, not shiny and chrome-reminiscent like that horrific episode of Spongebob Squarepants. You’re referencing a goddamn episode of Spongebob Squarepants, you aren’t ready to be a “suit.” And you aren’t a suit. You’re a free-ish spirit, as free as one can be with all the anxiety and Type A tendencies you’re dealing with. Having mom hair doesn't change anything.
3. Posture Confusion
Why can’t you stand up straight? Your posture has never been weirder. Where is this coming from? Could it actually be possible that your hair was so heavy before that your body strained to support it? Is the overcompensation evident now that the weight is gone and your shoulders and spine naturally slope and overreach and crumple? The angles you seem to be contorting in don’t even make that much sense with that theory! Maybe your body is in shock! Maybe it is crying out for help, having lost an appendage of such pivotal importance. Perhaps it is a survival mechanism, trying to make you seem smaller or unthreatening so that you will blend into the scenery and the other animals won’t gawk at your disfigurement.
4. Facebook Envy
You’d never realized it before, but you were a member of a social strata. Strata is the wrong word, you weren’t "above" anyone, but you belonged to a group with a vibe. Girls with long hair. Not the Victoria’s Secret kind, the carefree, running in fields kind. It was such an effortless commitment, and to a look that allowed you to be glamorous at a moment’s notice. You can’t subscribe to any of the other options! You can’t manage the upkeep of great, filled brows or colorful locks. You’d look beyond silly with the kind of short haircut that makes other people look so badass. Your cowlick doesn’t allow for bangs. Your hair is now so neutral, so “mid,” that it leaves you with a non-existent hair-aura. You’re like the color beige. You look through all the pictures of your oh-so-cool long-haired girlfriends and long for the days when you were a more interesting color, like cabernet.
You are not Kendall Jenner. You do not have a line of hair extensions. You are also not Beyoncé. You do not have a closet dedicated solely to wigs. You are just you, Pert 2-in-1 using you. You also have hair like a weed, it grows faster than a dandylion. And everything is temporary anyway. And there are some positives. You can wear your hair up without feeling like you’ve attached a 10-pound weight to the center of the back of your head. You can use less than two overflowing handfuls of shampoo/conditioner hybrid in every shower. If you sit down next to your boyfriend on the couch, his every move probably won’t yank your hair like some carefully orchestrated hair-yanking machine from a Saw movie. So there are some upsides to this drastic loss of pizazz. You know what? It’s sort of like this:
I apologize for skimping on the laughey posts for a while. Being sick for 6 months can take a toll on your disposition. I plan to get back into the silly groove immediately.