Hair Crisis 2K18

Well, it has been a hell of a week guys.

It started with a hair crisis which I am still in the throws of. By Thursday, I was out of my mind and I had The Husband cut my ponytail off with shitty scissors. I am still trying to decide if I like it (seeing as it is THE SAME HAIRCUT just shorter) or if I want to buzz off the rest. What is italicized below is the original post I started for last Tuesday before deep diving into self-loathing.

I have to tell you, I was revved up to write a post about cosplay and how sad it is that in 2018 at a convention run by an international expo corporation we still need to have ENORMOUS signs explaining that cosplay is not consent and what that means. IN 2018. Something about how unfortunately real Jessica Rabbit's line "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way" is in the word of cosplay.

But that is not the post you are getting today.

Nope.

Something else managed to get to me more.

I will tackle the pissbaby fan boys and girls soon, my dears - don't you fret. But until then...

I am going into hair crisis.

I am sick of my hair. I don't know what to do with it and have had the same style for like...3 or 4 years. And while it is a dope cut, i am just...bored.

Given the length (shaved on both sides and the back with just like 1/3 of the top long - perfect for a manbun) I don’t have a lot of options.

Do I shave it all? Just GI Jane that shit at home?

Do I go for a pixie? I am useless when it comes to styling my hair so it can't be too involved.

Do I keep it pink?

Instead of being consumed by my brain going in a million directions and just letting depression seep in until I cry about how much I hate everything about me (sounds fun, right?) I took to the internet to google image search my options.

Because when isn't google helpful?

I looked at faces and faces of conventionally attractive men and women - perfect skin, perfect hair, faces small and angular...

Or, ya know, 100% not me.

Clearly, I just said Fuck It and cut off my pony as indicated at the beginning. But after a week of slipping into a depression funk (like for real - I cried in bed last night because I don’t think I am cute enough to go on a girls weekend with a friend. This brain is a rollercoaster.) I am annoyed at myself. Not because of the depressed state that I am in but because of the catalyst.

Hair.

Or rather, how much worth and self worth humans tie to it. As I sit here still debating if I should just embrace the clippers and go full on buzz I have to ask myself why. Why shave it all off? I keep saying that if I want to grow it out shaving if is smartest so it will grow out evenly but the reality is that I will let it grow for a bit only to get the itch to do something to it (cut, shave, dye, whatever) again. It isn’t uncommon for women in some kind of crisis to change their hair as a means of exerting control over some aspect of their life. The likelihood of growing it out past a long bob ever again seems like insanity to me. So much time and effort and product… I can’t get up on time to gel the gentleman’s regular I have now. So, self, what am I really skirting?

Long hair equals beauty.

It is all over the media we consume. Short hair is coded as tomboyish at best but more often as angry, man hating lesbian/villainous (Yo! Take a peek at Ursula. And, yes, I understand that there are “edgy” female with short hair but that is another topic). Princesses give way to teen dramas which in turn give way to rom-coms, almost all with perfectly perfect female characters - dainty, pretty, and slender with long flowing hair. It is seen as the “norm” so much that people are happy to tell you that you “men don’t like women with short hair” or “you would look prettier with long hair”, not to mention the SCORES of people that want to tell fat women they should never cut their hair short because they are fat and need to hide behind the long layers. I had one boyfriend tell me I wasn’t allowed to cut my hair because he preferred long hair and because I was too fat so it was necessary to make me look better. (I would love to send you my therapy bills someday, bruh.)

I am disappointed that after all this time, all these years of being #woke to the patriarchy, I am still fighting internalized sexism as if it was written in my dna. When I think of myself my go to characteristics are negative but vanity isn’t one of them - so why am I so hung up on the idea of how hair equates beauty?

Until I figure it out, or at least figure out what to do with my hair, I remain stuck here.

RIP Floppy Vengeance

Free Range MPA?

I woke up 2 hours before I technically hit 33. At 4 hours removed I could say that it feels like 32 but with a migraine and knee pain.

It got me thinking about all the ways I don't recognize myself. Yes, my upper arms wave when I do and my meaty forearm ends in cankle-like wrist before spitting out stubby hands with sausage fingers. Yes, I may have gained a chin. And, yes... I am still a mixture of appalled and sad when I see myself from the side in a mirror. I am still quick with a trivia answer as well as with sharp wit. Indulging in garbage pop music is still delightful. But fundamentally a few things have changed.

The Husband went out for a day with the nephews Monday. After picking me up from work we dropped his PIC off at his home and ended up at an intersection with a Farmer's Market. It took immense self control not to scream that we should go check it out. I am planning a trip to Portland with a friend and one of the things I am most hype about is going to a Farmer's Market. Not drinks. Not poutine made with french fries that have been fried to perfection in duck fat. Nope. The Farmer's Market. And not JUST the Farmer's Market, guys. My excitement over locally grown Maine produce and artisan shit has me wondering not which breweries to tour but how many reusable shopping bags to pack. I want to wander around Whole Foods and Common Crow or any other natural grocery store. The smell of small natural markets is the purest smell on Earth.

WHY AM I EXCITED ABOUT FREE RANGE MEAT AND LOCALLY GROWN PRODUCTS?

WHY AM I WEARING NATURAL DEODORANT?

WHY DO I SUDDENLY WANT TO THRIFT FOR DOZENS OF JARS?

But the horrors don’t end there.

I spend my free time watching vegan videos on YouTube. I watch videos on zero waste life styles. I signed a pledge to stop using single-use straws (which I think should still be made available for those who need them but like maybe we shift to the paper ones?). I question whether I should order coffee via mobile pick-up because it means I sacrifice bringing a reusable cup for convenience. When grocery shopping I lament buying soaps/detergents I could easily make at home and paper towels when I could use a washable option. If we have kids do I go the fabric diaper route? Or those rad ones that breakup in the toilet and are flush-able?

And don’t get me started on period products. The tax is enough to piss me off but all that waste?!?! Do I order washable pads? Do I switch to the cup?

The madness seems to be permanent. It grows every year. Is this adulting? No one warned me about this. No one told me I would slowly turn into a hippie. My go to when leaving or entering a room, letting a car go, being let through by another car, taking pictures, or apparently just existing is to throw up a peace sign. I think shaving is a stupid societal convention the patriarchy uses to make women feel less than. I can’t wash my hair daily if I want to keep the dye vibrant and it does not bother me at all. It is like as I age I go more rogue but the idea of it is almost comforting - as if aging gives me a free pass to live my crazy hippie dreams and everyone will just look at me and quietly say to each other “ahhh, she must be over 30” like it naturally explains my behavior.

I suppose it isn’t a bad place to be but it sure will take some time to get used to this me that wonders where on the North Shore I can buy shampoo and conditioner in mason jars I brought in, weighed empty, filled, weighed again, and bicker with the cashier before asking for the manager who I greet with a peace sign.

TBT #19--Accomplished

19. Get a drastic new hair cut.

So, about a month or so ago, I shaved part of my head. Not a lot... maybe like half of a half. Or if you excel at math and fractions, 1/4th. 25%.
 
The Husband and I spent a few hours this weekend bleaching my naturally dark hair and the black dye I used months ago out. My hair is a honey badger. In true honey badger fashion, IT DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK. Hulk smash puny bleach! it came out approx. 99 different colors. After two days of bleaching, I let it rest. It deserved a rest as it took 3 bleach kits in 2 days and didn't fall out. I would have bought the best Tina Turner wig I could have if it had. The higher the hair, the closer to God afterall.
 
Last night, in the salon (and by salon I mean teeny tiny bathroom) The Husband graciously donned gloves and dyed my hair Nuclear Read (by Special Effects). Also known as Brighter Than the Day Star Red and HAHAHAHAHA Fire Trucks Got Nothin' on This Red. After letting it percolate for 2 episodes of My Little Pony, it was time to rinse. And now my tub looks like a crime scene. But! My hair is fabulous. Win.
 
I've always enjoyed non-natural colored hair. I started doing this crap to my hair in 6th grade. Its been a while and I have been surprised by my co-workers responses. Generally, they have been very nice. Nicer than I assumed.
 
That being said, Listen y'all: I KNOW my hair is red. It was intentional. I didn't wake up and miss the mirror in the bathroom this morning. The Dye Fairy did not visit me in my sleep. This is not a surprise for me. Nor should it be for you. I told all of you while i was 50 shades of bleached that it was going to be red. "You're hair is ..... (awkward pause)...uh... (awkward pause)...red (smirk)" doesn't make you funny or creative. And while Red was my favorite Fraggle, there is no need to make my nickname "Red." You are better than that. Let's lay it to rest with my other work nicknames: Cupcake, Piercings, and Holes.

Sister from another Mister?

Joking aside, I understand that having loud hair that isn't "normal" (whatever that means) opens me up to comments and ridicule. That is fine. Just respect my intelligence and yourself enough to make it creative.