I spent seven years of my life dreading every haircut. I spent seven years asking my hairdressers for "just a tiny trim off the tips". I would cringe anytime a class craft called for using scissors, terrified that someone would somehow miss their paper and chop off a chunk of my locks. I was ridiculously paranoid, even afraid that someone would try to sabotage me by attacking my hair (which, by the way, was not altogether delusional as one of my friends confessed to me last year that in middle school she did make a plot to put Nair in my shampoo. I'm talking to you, Anna Jones). Ever since a dreadful haircut in fourth grade, I was traumatized.
Little Laurel at her 13th birthday, with a big yellow flower on top of her head. Laurel Hecht
I knew, deep down, that this fear was pretty frivolous and shallow. It was ridiculous for me to place such importance on the state of my hair. It still sounds ridiculous when I think back to those feelings. But they were really intense feelings. Feeling really embarrassed when my fourth-grade friends wore their hair in braids or pigtails and mine couldn't reach anymore. Feeling like I had lost all girly-ness and beauty just because my hair wasn't long and flowing.
When I first cut my hair into that tragic, and (now) laughable style, my feelings of being less pretty translated into feeling less valuable. Somehow, losing ten inches of hair caused my worth to plummet.
By high school, my hair was down to my hips. I was not really afraid of getting it cut anymore, but it had just become a part of my identity. I was known for my long hair. I am a relatively reserved person, I don't like attention in unknown situations or when I'm in big groups. I tend to lay pretty low. My hair became a source of comfort, almost like I was hiding behind long, dark curtains of hair.
Anyways, I realized this weird strategy and attachment to my hair that developed and started planning out a time to chop my hair off during my junior year. The horrible haircut was years ago when I was but a child. It was time to get over myself and just cut off my hair, conquer my fears and move on.
We love a good freshman year car selfie, proudly showing off the long hair and braces.Laurel Hecht
I told myself that when I got my braces off, THAT is when I will finally get over this whole hair thing and will chop my hair off and lose the metal teeth, and emerge a woman. However, the braces came and went, and I told myself it just wasn't a good time.
Then, I said I would cut my hair short right before college. I would graduate from high school, move out of my house, chop off my hair and emerge a new woman!! However, graduation came and went and next thing I knew I was a freshman in college still clinging to the comfort of my long hair.
An evolved senior year car selfie, but still a car selfie nonetheless. Laurel Hecht
Basically, I kept putting it off. I was older and knew very well that I had so much more worth than just my dumb looks. Still, though, deep down, I was scared that I would cut off two feet of hair just to be left feeling like the sad, shy nine-year-old again. I kept planning then putting off my big haircut until this dramatic saga finally came to an end with a random haircut in Europe.
