High school was a rough time for me in terms of body image and self-perception. I went to a performing arts high school where I majored in dance all four years. I had barely had any training in dance before going to this school. Along with being self-conscious about my skill in class, I also had to stuff my plus sized ass into tights and a leotard almost every day. Surrounded by petite girls who could lift their legs to their head and not bat an eye, it was hard to feel pretty and feminine. So I spent most of high school growing my hair out into the longest mane I’ve ever had.

A fun fact about me: I hate having long hair. I have the privilege of having thick hair and a lot of it. Just shampooing my hair took me 15 minutes in the shower. But I bought into the idea that fat girls couldn’t have short hair. At the very start of high school, I took a leap and cut my hair into a pixie so long I don’t think it can even be classified that way. I loved it, but seeing my short hair and my body together in the mirror during ballet class made me feel like a blimp. So long it became.

The summer before I went to college, I decided to have a fresh start with my hair. I didn’t have to dance around in tight clothes anymore, it seemed like the perfect time to do it. I could be a girl with short hair, even a cool and edgy girl.

Look who’s too cool for her old preppy haircut! I got it in my head that I wanted an undercut, and an undercut I got. I was still nervous about whether or not I’d be able to pull something like this off, so I kept my hair a little longer so that I could cover it up if it wasn’t for me. When I got to St. Kate’s, I felt so happy and comfortable. I was able to start feeling confident in myself in a way I hadn’t before. I could look in the mirror and say, “You know what? I am cute, I look good” and really mean it. This new attitude allowed me to get the shortest haircut I’d ever had.

I had never felt so free, I didn’t have any hair touching my neck! I was so happy, and I felt pretty with it. I didn’t look like I had a small head compared to my body like all those beauty articles warned me I’d have! I was amazed at my new shower time compared to when I had my hair long. Aside from my feelings of joy, though, I was so upset with myself for not allowing myself to have something like this sooner. My carefree hair outlook got me thinking that I could do anything I wanted with myself, I didn’t care about what people thought was “slimming.” So I dyed my hair purple because I liked the color.

I walked into the salon feeling a little nervous about it. No matter how many times I had told myself I’d like it, I still had that lingering thought of “What if I can’t pull it off? What if I’m not trendy enough to do it?” I walked out of the salon a little more in love with myself. I was (and am) trendy enough for a purple undercut! I kept my hair this color from spring to summer, I loved it but I didn’t have to money to keep getting my roots covered up. I wanted to dye my hair a fun color again, but the experience of frequent haircuts and fast growth in my roots made me decide that if I wanted to dye it again, it had to be longer. That summer began the dreaded grow out.

I somehow managed to keep it looking okay. There were periods in the beginning where I almost gave up and just cut it again, but I held strong. From the day I decided to grow it out to when I dyed it, it had been a year and one month. Thinking back on it, I don’t know how I did it. But one year and one month later, I was finally able to dye it again.

This was another moment of worry—could I pull off gray hair? But I sucked it up and went in for my five hour hair appointment. This was the worst bleaching that I’ve ever had; it burned so badly that I was squirming the whole time. I somehow made it through and came out with a hair color that I loved. I woke up the next morning with little holes in my scalp that were on their way to scabbing over. I decided that day to not bleach my hair for awhile, I could live with box dyes once I was done with the gray. I loved my color, but got tired of the length very quickly. I promised myself that once my products to maintain the gray had run out, I could cut my hair off again. I kept my gray hair for five long, neck tickling months. The day I realized that I only had one more application worth of product, I immediately made a hair appointment.

In those five months, I decided I wanted a true pixie cut. The two times I had cut my hair short, I had enough of it long in the front that I could still curl it if I wanted to. I wanted to take the big plunge and give my face nothing to hide behind.

I have never felt as free and beautiful as I do right now with this pixie cut. It’s an incredibly masculine cut, but I feel prettier with it than I ever did with my hair halfway down my torso. It’s been a long journey to this moment, around six or seven years. Looking back on where I started, I feel like I’ve made 15 year old Emily proud. Most of all, I’m just excited not to think a bug is crawling on me when it’s really just my hair.