Syvelocin
April 26th, 2013, 12:30 PM
I joined this site awhile ago, did very minimal posting, mostly just creeping. I thought this would be the perfect place to put this, other than my journal :P I feel it necessary to write a goodbye letter to my hair. Not in mourning, but in hope and good luck on good terms.
My goal was tail bone. I thought I wanted that length. It's perfect because there's no risk of damage by sitting on the hair, but long enough that people are still impressed. Even though, if you aren't familiar with hair this length, you tend to find it in the strangest of places. In your underwear, tangled in your shoelaces, etc. I hit hip-length, I don't know when officially I did. On a 5' 5" girl like me, that comes down to 33 inches from part to longest point, 33 inches of fine, 2c frizzy hair. I remember getting my hair trimmed as a child, but the last picture of my hair ending before my shoulders was taken at about age four.
My eighteenth birthday is this May. Even for someone so young, the amount of change I've gone through even in the last three years is miraculous. If you showed my past self who I would become, she wouldn't believe it. I still know very little about myself, but the fog has thinned to an insane degree.
I'm pretty safe. I have been for a very long time. But I never thought that was what my hair was. But it is. It's a security blanket. A curtain to hide behind. Who knows how old parts of my hair are? Sections might have have already penetrated my scalp in elementary school, a time I glorify like no other since I was still living in my birth state (and thus, hate where I live now with a passion). It reminds me of simpler times, of warmth and childhood. But this hair, it isn't me. And because I've let it define me so long through compliments from others, I've always thought it was who I am.
I'm leaving in June. I'm moving out into a studio apartment in my hometown and going to college. This is when EVERYTHING changes. And it feels almost respectful to let the outward appearance match what's going on for me right now: the first big adventure of my life. I want to go into that being who I truly am, and confidently displaying that.
Two weeks ago, I talked this out with my therapist, my desire to cut my hair. It petrified me, the idea of losing such an old friend. I hadn't even told my mother yet. But, I decided to just go for it, immediately when I got home. The look on her face, absolutely priceless. It came out of no where, and like every good decision in my life, it was very quick, but always thought-out.
I told the woman two inches. She showed me in the mirror what that would look like (and then claimed it wasn't nearly enough, lol. My hair was a sea of split ends). But it wasn't enough. I told her six inches. I held my mom's hand and teared up as hair hit the floor, but that was all. Fourteen years, and this is the best thing I've ever done.
I'm 28 inches right now, and the week of my birthday I'm going to go another six (pending). My final hair cut will be shoulder length dry (I'll have to work out how long that is wet) before I leave in June. And I've never been happier :)
My goal was tail bone. I thought I wanted that length. It's perfect because there's no risk of damage by sitting on the hair, but long enough that people are still impressed. Even though, if you aren't familiar with hair this length, you tend to find it in the strangest of places. In your underwear, tangled in your shoelaces, etc. I hit hip-length, I don't know when officially I did. On a 5' 5" girl like me, that comes down to 33 inches from part to longest point, 33 inches of fine, 2c frizzy hair. I remember getting my hair trimmed as a child, but the last picture of my hair ending before my shoulders was taken at about age four.
My eighteenth birthday is this May. Even for someone so young, the amount of change I've gone through even in the last three years is miraculous. If you showed my past self who I would become, she wouldn't believe it. I still know very little about myself, but the fog has thinned to an insane degree.
I'm pretty safe. I have been for a very long time. But I never thought that was what my hair was. But it is. It's a security blanket. A curtain to hide behind. Who knows how old parts of my hair are? Sections might have have already penetrated my scalp in elementary school, a time I glorify like no other since I was still living in my birth state (and thus, hate where I live now with a passion). It reminds me of simpler times, of warmth and childhood. But this hair, it isn't me. And because I've let it define me so long through compliments from others, I've always thought it was who I am.
I'm leaving in June. I'm moving out into a studio apartment in my hometown and going to college. This is when EVERYTHING changes. And it feels almost respectful to let the outward appearance match what's going on for me right now: the first big adventure of my life. I want to go into that being who I truly am, and confidently displaying that.
Two weeks ago, I talked this out with my therapist, my desire to cut my hair. It petrified me, the idea of losing such an old friend. I hadn't even told my mother yet. But, I decided to just go for it, immediately when I got home. The look on her face, absolutely priceless. It came out of no where, and like every good decision in my life, it was very quick, but always thought-out.
I told the woman two inches. She showed me in the mirror what that would look like (and then claimed it wasn't nearly enough, lol. My hair was a sea of split ends). But it wasn't enough. I told her six inches. I held my mom's hand and teared up as hair hit the floor, but that was all. Fourteen years, and this is the best thing I've ever done.
I'm 28 inches right now, and the week of my birthday I'm going to go another six (pending). My final hair cut will be shoulder length dry (I'll have to work out how long that is wet) before I leave in June. And I've never been happier :)