A week ago I shaved my hair off. I guess not shave shaved; down to the wood, but 1” long, using the clippers and a #8 guard. Anyways, it has been very liberating and also uneventful. I’ve had short hair before. Never this short, but it’s not like I had Cindy Crawford in the 90’s hair and then suddenly Annie Lennox in the 90’s hair. And, as that ages me anyway, I will detour for a second to quote my witty teen daughter who joked that when she sees someone with a birthday starting in 19[00] she thinks “were you allowed to show your ankles back then….did women have rights?” Cheeky bastard!
So back to the loss of my somewhat luscious mane: I have been thrilled because it’s so friggin’ easy! I don’t have to time my hair washes around having the time to style or air dry. I don’t have a various stages of dirty regimen; where day one = hair is down…day 3 = full on bun. I don’t have to use a shower cap on off days or be frustrated if I got a little more sweaty than expected during a workout and hadn’t accounted for hair time (see: Ponytail every day). It basically just feels like my hair is pinned up and then I see a mirror and remember that I don’t have hair now.
I literally woke up like this and it feels like me! Then I have begun to realize some of the interesting side effects: For one, it’s interesting that hair length seems strongly connected to age and to sexuality in our culture. My hilarious daughter kindly pointed out that me, her grandma and her boyfriend’s grandma, all have the same hair now. Um, thanks..? But I’m, like, the cool one right..? (Also, her grandma doesn’t have super short hair anymore…does she even look at us between insta-reels?)
My son shaved his head the same day as me (unfortunately not together and not to twin his mom, but I’ll pretend he wanted to be like me or bond in this special way). My ex joked that he and I could be a lesbian couple and, once again, my daughter piped in with how her friends asked if I was gay because of the buzzed hair! Which is not to say any of that was derogatory, coming from a group that has many who go by they/them and land on various shades of the rainbow; more to point out that it is an interesting thing that we associate short hair with lack of femininity, or age, or sexual preference.
The last time I had short hair was 3 years ago, I recall a trip to Vegas where I made out with a 10 years younger than me guy, who pretty blatantly asked me why I had short hair and if it was some sort of statement. However, I also met my wonderful boyfriend when I had short hair and when I shaved my head the other night and sent him a bathroom selfie showing him the results; he only reacted by asking me to pan down with the camera…so the short hair was secondary, to say the least! (Have I mentioned how awesome he is?)
That has been an interesting revelation also; women have found it “brave” or said they could never do that or that their husband/boyfriend likes long hair. What!? I mean I guess I can understand the perspective, in that I don’t like long hair on a man, and would prefer a nice short do, but seriously? I mean, you do you. Although, to be honest, my ex took on a weird and confusing challenge (?) before he turned 40 and decided to not shave or cut his hair from 39-40…he looked homeless (and he is an attractive man), so I can cut some slack for the idea of “preference”…but not shackles.
But where was my point? Oh yah, age; now with buzzed hair, it’s fresh and new and the greys will be grey and that’s nothing new because I’m pretty natural anyway, but there is nowhere to hide, and as much as I just feel like me and don’t remember my lack of head fur, top of mind, it does put me right out there for all to see and I am glad I am at this age for this because I don’t know that I care anymore.
I feel young, I feel like I look young, but I maybe am a tad more delusional than I realize. I remember a friend of mine who is a couple decades older than me, (and looks awesome and amazing) say that there comes a day when you’re walking down the street towards some man and you can see he’s checking you out, then he gets closer and there is a moment of “oh God!” when he realizes your age or something that doesn’t fit with the image he had on the approach. I’ve had this now! More than once! I’ve been out running and felt the “check out” and the approach of the opposing, similarly aged (give or take), male runner and felt the moment when the short hair hit him. Ok, maybe I’m reading into it, and to be clear, I don’t care all that much, and am not on the hunt or whatever (see: wonderful boyfriend) but I have to say, either it’s the hair, or I suddenly have horns, because the running eye contact (or whatever you want to call it) has shifted in this past week…and all that’s changed is the hair…but whatever, it’s interesting. If I go on it will look like this lady doth protest too much about not caring!
It took me a while to come to this and I’m glad I did. I appreciate that I must have experienced enough “tummy time” as a baby, as I do have a nicely shaped head. I appreciate my skin and my lack of desire to wear much makeup. I see my hair accessories and my jar of ridiculously overpriced “urban scrunchies” and wonder if they are dead to me now. Do I keep shaving my hair every 4 weeks and save time/money?
I am not sure, but I do know that I’m feeling it now! I say I forget that my hair is shaved and it feels like it’s just pinned up, and in general it does. But the mowing of my own locks was powerful to me in some other way that feels like everything. Honesty! Freedom! But also, it’s just hair and it’ll grow back.
Periscopecake 