Letting go of locks: It’s amazing how a single pair of scissors and an accompanying head of hair can change something so seemingly constant and immutable – age – to such a remarkable degree
This summer, I finally gave in to my Mother’s month-long strenuous persuasions of cutting my long (not luscious) hair short. I found all the pros and cons in her argument and understood them as perfectly rational and logical. The only problem was that, despite all those rationales, I still wanted my hair to stay as long as it was. My Mom, for the very same reasons, was on Team “Trim ‘em”.
While the barber cut my hair, I closed my eyes shut, very tightly, like two inaccessible purses, and imagined an idyllic world where people delivered nice compliments to me about my hair and me. I gripped the black leather chair uncomfortably, with tense, red fingers, as more and more hair landed on my fabric-covered chest, on the messy marble floor and on my cringed laps, right on top of the thin maroon overcoat I had been made to wear. I loathed taking off my glasses, only to look up to see the barber still cutting away more and more of myself, each lock of hair sending panicky feelings throughout my frightened neurons. I was losing a part of my identity – my character. And no, it was certainly not the first time in my life I was cutting a significant portion of my hair. It just wasn’t habitual for me, yet.
I told myself, I was over-imagining this situation.
It’s just hair.
Just. Hair.
I read an article on Medium about how positive thinking made a difference in supposedly stressful situations like these. However, I had also read another article claiming that negative thinking – the acceptance of “blue” feelings – works far more effectively than positive thoughts. I was still counting on the former article.
But the words I uttered somehow made everything worse, so I started thinking about the delightful feeling I get whenever I see myself with freshly trimmed hair. The ends of my black threads (again, not lustrous) curl inwards, beautifully, like celebrity models’ ringlets, while most of my locks fall limply to my sturdy back in fine, poised positions.
It’s like the introductory scene of the Divergent movie. Right?
The cons were:
1. My hair was at my absolute longest right now; they had never been longer in my entire eighteen-year lifetime than they were at that point in time. Stretching all the way to my hips, they were very thin (ironically, as thin as a strand of hair), and quite uniformly straight, but they were also long. Long for me, at least. They lacked any sense of curl or wavy-ness. Cutting them would mean that reaching this stage in hair terms wouldn’t happen until a very, very long time in the future. Light-years, maybe.
2. Cutting such long hair would subject me to physical, mental, and most of all, emotional trauma. I love my hair. I may not oil them, curl them, massage them, straighten them, perm them, style them, dye them, pamper them, wash them or dry-shampoo them every single day or hour, or braid them with every type of braid other than the only simple basic braid style I know (the basic plait) but I still love my hair. Yes, I wash them. Just not daily. There’s no dandruff, lice or any other living creatures in them; I checked. Enough said.
3. Everyone in my family and in my peer circle generally has long hair. I would become the outlier if I cut my hair. Excuse my desire for relative conformity and lack of liberalness. This is probably the weakest con, but it’s still a point to consider.
The pros were:
1. Shorter hair is always easier to manage, braid, wash, brush, style, spray, and take care of. It’s like having a smaller body. My counter-argument for this works because it turned out to be true after having my hair cut in earlier periods of my life: I only wash my scalp (which is the scientifically healthy way to clean hair), and there is no way my scalp area is ever going to decrease in my lifetime. I’m always going to spend the same amount of time washing the same amount of scalp. Hair length has nothing to do with the time I spend washing my hair. I’ve never shortened my bathing/showering time ever in my life by directly cutting my hair; it never has anything to do with the time duration. Hence, no matter how short I cut my hair – yes, even a pixie cut – I’m never going to shorten my showering time. So, short hair does not free up my schedule in the bathing aspect of things. It does make overall management of hair SLIGHTLY easier, but only very little. Now, I’ve forgotten the only decent hairstyle I know how to make other than a classic ponytail: a basic braid. It’s too short; even my messy buns keep falling because my steps/layers keep falling out. (Okay, there are now two hairstyles I can manage to manufacture). No, management is definitely worse. I take my words back. All Rights Reserved!
2. I will look decades younger (roll credits!) I told my Mother: “I don’t want to look unborn.” Alive works. Toddler works too. I have a chestnut-like round face and a very broad overall body structure (big bones). Long hair – among other things – makes people ask me questions like, “Which graduate school do you go to?”, “Where’s your ring?”, and “When are you graduating (from graduate school!)?” This is probably the only reason I agreed to let the barber touch my precious long hair. I spent years growing those. Cortisol levels, degrees of stress and tons of other factors have been halting my hair growth to a standstill for years, and thus it took much longer than normal to grow them to a considerably long length. But since I have had short hair many times before in my life, I definitely knew it made me look younger, and hence, fresher, livelier and more vibrant with energy.
3. I’ll thank my parents for it. I did. Mission Accomplished.
I regret my trimming decision from time to time, but those emotions only last for moments, not prolonged hours. Temporary regret is definitely bearable – transience can be healthy for oneself. I do miss my long hair, and hated the fact that, on their own, they looked wonderful, but on me – on my figure, my face, my body – they looked awful. Long hair simply didn’t suit me, no matter how much I loved the idea of having long hair. I was simply in love with the idea of long hair.
Now, I definitely look younger, and more “teenage”.
More my age.
More me.
With time, I’ll learn to like this feeling more than the one I had while enjoying my long locks. At least that’s what the concept of optimism is supposed to do.