The process of getting your hair done is a state of being. Nothing else quite like it and it’s genuinely a full body and mind experience that yes, can just be something that you do “for funsies” or whatever. But for me, no, my hair changes when I need to change. It’s a physical representation of my growing pains as I’m desperately trying to grow the fuck up but not look like I’m trying too hard to get there.
A hair cut is a freshening up, spring cleaning of my person and it helps me clear out whatever I’ve been working through and move the fuck on. On to something new onto something that needs more of my attention than my relationship anxieties than my fear of being lied to than X, Y, and Z.
This hair dye and hair cut mean something to me. They are a physical manifestation of my fervent hope that my anxieties will lessen. Perhaps without the loud, bright red hair that I’ve had, I can be more quiet, more calm, and relaxed about the unavoidable uncertainties of my life here on planet Earth.
I mean, I hope it does.
I haven’t done much today, No One. So I’m sorry that I don’t have much to say.
I did redye my hair dark brown which is lovely. I do love it when I have such dark hair, but I think the next time I dye my hair it will be an extravagant color. I’ve been thinking about blue recently, a lovely pastel blue or something along those lines. Just for the hell of it. I’ve found that this age that I’m at is kind of the age where you can do almost anything and get away with it. Your parents can’t tell you you can’t because you’re an adult and society will just brush it off as “a phase.” Which is whatever. If that’s what society wants to think so society can sleep at night, I don’t really care. All I know is, I’m having fun.
I did a thing, No One. Here is my thing.
Did you guess the thing? No? Here is another hint.
If you haven’t guess it by now, I’m going to tell you.
I have dyed my hair, No One.
For the first time ever, I’m a brunette and HOLY FLYING FUCK IS IT GREAT.
Can I tell you a story? I’m going to tell you a story.
Long, long ago, back in January, I was in a relationship. This guy was not the best. But hey, guess what? He was my first boyfriend and I thought I loved him (I’m now convinced that I didn’t know what love was). So everything in my life, revolved around his approval, like the good gender stereotype that I fit into.
But one day, I ask myself, “Oh wow, Hope, wouldn’t you look great with darker hair?” to which I replied, “Fuck yeah, I’d look great with dark hair. Oh man, I want to dye my hair!”
Now, I’ve dyed my hair in the past. I’m a natural dirty blonde so I’ve done some lemon juice recipes to give myself some highlights and I was a redhead during the second semester of junior year and I’ve even attempted to dye my hair purple (it failed, but I tried). So you see, I’m clearly the adventurous type.
But at that point in the relationship, I ran everything by this cracker, so one day, I’m texting him and I say, “You know, babe, I’ve been thinking about dyeing my hair darker and chopping it off. Maybe brown or black. What would you do?”
To which he replied, “Probably break up with you… Don’t dye or cut your hair.”
Not wanting to be broken up with, I agreed to not dye my hair and not to cut it.
Flas forward a few months and he and I have broken up cuz one day I finally realized how bad the relationship was. One of the first things I do is start thinking about dyeing my hair.
I still wanted to! And now nothing was holding me back!
Thank the Lord, my best friend, A, talked me off of that ledge. She told me that while yes I’d look great with darker hair, you should never do something to spite someone else and you should never undergo a dramatic change during an emotional time period. Plus I had senior pictures coming up and prom and what if it didn’t look right and and and- so I agreed to wait.
Now to July. I got my senior photo with my long, crazy, out of control blonde hair. I went to prom with my long blonde locks falling down my back. My blonde hair was a mane coming out of my graduation cap at graduation. Now, I had no excuses to put it off.
In fact, I was in a weird friendship/ relationship thing with this kid, Harry (see https://hafletcher9718.wordpress.com/2014/05/12/weird-people-are-weird/ for more backstory), and I mentioned it to him. Trying to see if my long blonde hair was the ony thing guys found attractive in me. And you know what he said? “Fucking go for it if that’s what you want.”
Now shit like that is why TO THIS DAY I love Harry. He never said, “Oh yesss, you’d look so hot.” or “No, your blonde hair is your best feature” or anything like that. Harry just wanted me to be happy.
So about a week later I chopped off fourteen inches of hair and happily donated it to Locks of Love. And holy shit, I could not STOP LAUGHING while I was sitting in the hair dresser’s chair as she chopped off my hair.
I wasn’t laughing cuz I felt like I was making a mistake. I was laughing because I felt so free.
Free from that God awful relationship with that guy back in January. Free from hours upon hours of hair maintenance every fucking morning. Free from that stereotype of that happy, long blonde haired ASB president that had followed me around and upset me greatly during high school. Free from any preconceived notions that people might have had of me.
I felt whole.
Except, I never dyed it. And let’s face it, that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to be rid of those fucking stupid blonde jokes! Because let’s face it, I’M A CERTIFIED AND PROVEN GENIUS BUT EVERY DAY I GOT DUMB BLONDE JOKES.
I was fucking done with people SUGGESTING that my intelligence was based off of my hair color. And it’s not that I wanted to dissociate myself from blondes. I still identify as a blonde who just so happened to dye her hair brown for the fall and winter months.
So fuck off, and let me have my dark, short hair. And fuck off and let me do my own thing. And fuck off with your stereotypes, tropes, and hurtful conforming ways, cuz I’m fucking done with it. Consider this me putting my foot down and looking like whatever the fuck I want to look like and being whoever the fuck I am and doing whatever the fuck I want. Because this is what I want, so I’m getting it.