Two posts in a week! This one’s short - like my new ‘do. Let’s not bury the lede here - I cut off almost all of my hair.
Honestly, it looks even better in person.
Last time I wrote about my appearance, I said that my midlife work was beginning to trust myself. But when this voice inside me said, “shave your head”, I resisted. The voice got louder. I began really thinking it over. There are so many reasons why this voice came to be, and I’d like to share them with you to illuminate the power of a moment - and our ability to move past it.
When I was 18, a hairdresser told me, “A bit of bang[s] is nice to hide a larger forehead” or something like that. Like many 18 year-olds, I was wildly insecure and took this comment as truth. Since then, I’ve always had bangs. To hide my forehead.
At 26, I was dating someone with hair longer than me. When I got my first pixie cut, he went to the barber a day or two later, saying he couldn’t date someone with hair shorter than his. See also: the two boyfriends who followed, who wished I looked more feminine (but I guess I was feminine enough to date soooo yeah. Raise your sons to be better than these dudes.).
At 34, I’d just given birth to Maya. This photo of me makes me cringe every time. I’m carrying about 45 pounds of extra weight from my pre-baby days, deep in the grip of postpartum depression, and faking a smile. I looked at that photo and vowed to grow out my hair to hide all the new weight on my face.
The global pandemic gave me the opportunity to quietly grow my hair. When millions of people are diseased and dying, turns out, no one cares if your hair is in an awkward growth stage or not. It became long and beautiful. I received a lot of compliments. The pictures from that era are the closest I’ll ever be to being Insta perfect - long locks, glowing pregnancy pictures, a swirl of mostly pepper and a little salt flowing around my face.
As it turns out, long hair is a giant pain. It’s hot, it’s a lot to wash and dry, and it gets in the way. I loved it for the pictures, but I take pictures about 3 times annually. Not worth it. Two years ago, I cut my hair back to chin length. It felt more like me, but not quite right. Then I wrote this blog post about leaning into who you are, trusting yourself, letting go of appearances, blah blah blah. Who really believes that crap?!
Giving life to those words sparked a desire to free myself further. But I was scared. Scared that my big forehead would be prominent and shiny. Scared that people would call me “unfeminine” like it’s a real insult. Scared that I would have to show my entire face, which, already “large” by Korean standards in 2008, has only grown and added weight since then.
The fear is what made me do it. Knowing I’d have to make more peace with myself. Knowing I’d have to see more of myself and learn to love it. Knowing I couldn’t hide behind my hair or keep trying to fit in, that I would have to be even more honest that I’m never going to be a conventional lady when it comes to appearances. So, off with her hair.
In the week since this transformation, I’ve had at least 4 people tell me that I have “the right face” or “bone structure” to do this. Reader, I do not. What I do have is the assurance that this was the right leap for me. I have confidence that I will learn to find worth in things beyond my appearance and hair. I trusted myself to make a bold move. I believe all of that shines through in my presence now, which is why pictures don’t quite do it justice.
Tuesday, I released all my hair. Wednesday, I woke up, and it looked great. I did a sweaty workout, and it still looked great. I showered, and right as I stepped out, it looked great. If I was a man, I’d be the man.
