Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Alright, guys. This actually has very little to do with Spain, but it’s kind of a big deal for me right now, so I’m going to write about it anyway.

I CUT MY HAIR!!! :D

Before (with my best Dissatisfied-Before Face):                       AFTER! :)

Yes, I’m sort of surprised, too. Ever since the Hair Dye Fiasco of 2010, I’ve fantasized more or less daily about hacking into my treacherous mane with a Pampered Chef butcher’s knife. I could practically feel the liberation from patriarchal society and bad dye jobs just thinking about it--and then I’d think of a million other things that would prevent me from taking the plunge. What if I hated my haircut even more than I hated my bleached ends? What if this blow to my self-confidence caused me to start off on the wrong foot in Spain and I felt like a young eighth grader struggling through the trenches of puberty and algebra again? What if people thought I was a lesbian? What if--gasp--guys didn’t like me anymore?

After coming to Spain and feeling like a young eighth grader struggling through the trenches of puberty and algebra again anyway, I realized something very important. I got in front of my mirror and, putting on my best Rhett Butler face, pointed significantly at my reflection and rumbled, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!” Okay, well, I didn’t actually think about channeling Clark Gable until I sat down to write this blog entry, but it seemed appropriate--in reality, it was more of a slow realization over a series of weeks filled with growing apathy towards my natural inclination to please people. 

I suddenly realized that I just didn’t care if people thought I was a lesbian, because A) whatever, that’s not even an insult, just a false statement, and B) nothing people say about me will change the way I actually am. I can’t wait to use this little gem from Remember the Titans if someone starts mumbling that it’s not important, but... : “If it doesn’t matter, what’s the big deal?”

On the same note, I realized that I really, REALLY  could care less what the male population (especially of Spain) has to think about my hair. I’m at that point where I honestly, truly could care less about being in a relationship with anyone, let alone someone who makes me feel like a Dallas Filet in a pair of high heels. If someone wants to prove me wrong and startle me out of my anti-men rampage, then dammit, he shouldn’t care what my hair looks like anyway. 

As for not knowing if I’d like the end result or not...well, I didn’t like my current curtain of brassy blonde locks either, so even if I hated it, at least it was a change. I finally decided to it the other day when I was talking for the millionth time to a classmate about “thinking about” cutting my hair but how I thought I would miss the feel of my long hair on my back, and he said, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you with your hair down!”  Somewhat incredulously shocked, I went home an hour later and started flipping through my pictures from Spain. Get this: out of 235 pictures, I only have my hair down in three of them. THREE. All I could think was, what’s the point of having long hair if I’m just going to be throwing it in a stupid bun everyday, anyway?

With the help of my short-haired-maverick friend Kate, I grew the balls to make an appointment at my host-mom’s favorite hair salon: a one-room deal 30 feet away from our house which my host-dad describes as “only being able to fit four people at one time.”

Kate and I walked in five minutes before my appointment time, which startled the perpetually-late Spaniards who apparently hadn’t been expecting me for another hour at least because that’s how long we had to wait for the one-woman act to get done with her other customers. Despite the fact that there were now five people in the small purple room, the women all stuck around to see the end result of my hair after they heard what I was going to do to it. “Qué lástima, qué lástima,” they kept muttering--what a shame! Still, the one getting her roots touched up was on my side, insisting that “anything goes these days” and that it would look better with my face. Mediterranean-style, they all insisted on participating, throwing in their two cents whenever possible:

“What a shame!”

“No, woman; it’s going to be very stylish, look at what the kids are wearing these days!”
“You should braid it first before you cut it if you want to save it.”

“Like this?”

“No, braid it at the bottom of her head!”

“Yeah, but the top might get more strands.”

“But the bottom will be longer!”

[After the first chop] “Oh how stylish! You should just keep it that way.”

“What a shame!”

“No, woman, let her do what she wants!”

“Such healthy hair!”

“What a shame!”

Eventually, though, even the one with the cross-dressing dog (notice how the poor thing even has to wear pants) approved of my choice. Despite the language barrier (which I somehow managed to leap over gracefully several times, remarking how much I resembled a hedgehog with bristly hair) I left the shop feeling more bonded to my hairdresser than I ever had before. 

I still feel like something’s missing when I move my head around, but it really does feel liberating instead of sad--at least for the moment. If anything, I’m feeling a lot less regret than I thought I would at this point. I love it, and I think this is the final step I needed to take to finally, actually realize that I don’t really care what people think.

To conclude, here are a few things I’ve learned:

1. Do what you want and to hell with the rest.
2. Follow your instincts, things usually turn out okay. Even if your instincts tell you to dye your hair red and you spend a year trying to get back to normal, you’ll eventually realize that it’s just your life telling you to let go stop caring so damn much about physical appearances--it might even help you experiment with a new hairstyle you’d always dreamed about but never imagined pulling off!
3. I have a HUGE cowlick on the back of my head that kind of makes me look like a cross between these two gentlemen:

 and

http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lekys0Tj7X1qan0hfo1_500.gif

Basically, though, I needed this life change and I love it. More on Spain in posts to come, I promise!