Scissors ate my hair

I woke up yesterday, looked in the mirror and just decided to take the leap; goodbye my curly locks, time to see why Jean Seberg and Audrey Hepburn were so fond of their short hairdos.

As my hairdresser gradually chopped one strand after the next, my heart felt extremely serene; it felt right. He made me remove my eyeglasses during the whole procedure making it impossible to see how much he was actually taking out of my not so demure hair. As he was putting the finishing touches, he gave me back my glasses and my piercing that had fallen off my ear – from all the excitement probably – and finally, after calmly gazing at a hazy shape swiftly sliding around me, I saw my reflection clearly in the mirror. My first emotion was relief; I liked it. Twirling around the salon trying to understand my new look, a sense of freedom graced me with its presence, freedom from the patriarchal stereotypes surrounding female beauty and how girls are supposed to have long hair to be deemed beautiful or feminine. I still looked like a girl, a girl I felt had been waiting to express her adrogyny proudly without the ridiculous assumption that short hair meant lesbian. I’m straight, but that doesn’t stop me from loving neckties and suspenders, or shopping in the men’s section because let’s face it, a tshirt covered in glitter and flower print pants don’t always make the cut; my closet would probably vomit them out anyway.

Then came the giggles, my first time brushing my newly acquired beast, my brush flying from my hand as I combed too far after my do and having my hair stand on my head because hey, now it can! Or taking a bath and not knowing how much shampoo to put only to drown in what was formerly an acceptable amount, trying to wring out the excess water but instead grabbing the air that now replaced my previous mass of hair and finally wrapping a huge towel around the tiny little bob left on my head. Laughing alone in the bathroom, as if my mum needed more proof of my insanity.

Funny how something as simple as hair can change a person, physically or psychologically, lift their mood a few centimeters at a time, maybe a colour and a comb stroke too. I have short hair now, it looks rock n’roll and I love it.