I guess I can understand why my hairstylist kept asking me if I was sure, poised to go with her scissors dangerously close to my long ponytail. What she didn’t know is that I had been waiting for this for over two years. I had graduated high school two days before (keeping my hair for the obligatory pictures, of course), and now I was finally allowed to go for it. Just a few quick snips and it was over. My friends squealed and took videos, but with each big chop, I felt my head and shoulders getting lighter. And as strange as it sounds, I felt my heart getting lighter too. This was something I had wanted for a very long time. It was a way for me to show everyone that I was ready to begin making choices for myself.
My entire life felt like I was simply keeping my hair for other people, sacrificing what I truly felt like doing for others’ approval. Lord knows I didn’t want long hair. Friends loved to pull each curl and watch it spring back. My aunt fawned over my hair, expressing jealousy for the way it spiraled without my asking it to. Yes, I envied the boys that spent half the time and products in the shower that I did. I hated being at the mercy of whether or not I put a ponytail holder on my wrist that morning. Whatever other people saw was nothing more than a mop to me. It seemed to be an inconvenience, and once you begin to notice all the ways it bothers you, it never stops.
It could be a well-meaning comment about how much better I look when I take the time to straighten my thin, frizzy hair. Perhaps it was the daily disappointment of realizing that you just weren’t cut out for the “Hair” section of Pinterest -- no waterfall braids here. Even as a child, watching "Princess Diaries" and looking like Mia Thermopolis’ “before” photo was no encouragement for me to love what I saw in the mirror. I mean, have you ever tried to write a paper or bake a pie or skateboard or do anything with hair in your face? (You might as well forget about lip gloss if it’s a windy day.)
Over time, small grievances like this built up to the point that even a single strand brushing the back of my neck could send me up the wall. Many times I found myself irritable and angry for no reason other than a breeze sending my hair into my face while walking. It had officially reached a breaking point. The kind of constant irritation I was feeling showed me that I really had some identity issues I needed to confront, because it was obvious that this was bigger than a hairstyle. I realized I had been allowing other people to tell me how to look, even if it didn’t work for me.
Though many people tried to warn me away from such a bold move right before college with talk of regret, I was completely set on what I wanted. Regardless of what my guy friends had to say, regardless of all the jokes that I was somehow “more masculine” now, I knew I made the right choice because of how I felt. (Plus, I did plenty of research on Google images for just the right cut.)
These days, I’m happier than ever. For once in my life, I did something completely for myself, even knowing it would make some people upset. Here’s the kicker: I didn’t care. It became a subtle jab at society for making me feel like I had to look a certain way for most of my life. So for anyone out there wondering what it’s like on the other side of the chop, believe me -- there is life after the haircut. And it’s amazing. Whether it’s long, short or rainbow, I hope you do what makes you happy with how you look. You’re gonna rock it.
