Hirsute Matters aka the Hair Conundrum

I recently chopped off three to four inches of hair. When I say chopped off, I mean that literally. I didn't go to a hair salon and spend $30 on a haircut and shampoo. I grabbed a pair of old scissors at 1 in the morning and got to hacking. It's a bad habit of mine. I let my hair grow to about shoulder length, maybe a little longer and then I'm sick of it. I become tired of straggly, split ends and ponytail bumps.

Normally, the hair is symbolic of somebody in my life with whom I'm frustrated. If I'm fed up with a guy calling me, I'll chop my hair off. If I'm mad at my dad, I'll chop my hair off. If I wish a friend of mine would stop moaning over a guy, I'll chop my hair off. I don't consciously do this. It just happens.

The point is that now, my hair is in a short rounded bob with lots of layers (I evened up the back with a razor blade to create soft blended layers. There were lots of mirrors involved). The result varies depending on the day. Sometimes it's a mommy hair cut with a side part. Sometimes it's butch without a definitive part. Today, it's edgy with a slight flip to one side and dramatic, over one eye, side-swept bangs. regardless of the hair style of the moment, one thing has changed significantly. I am no longer checked out as much.

No more, do I receive the up and down glance and an eye-brow raise. No more do drunk boys on saturday nights ask me for a hug while I'm walking past a bar. No. Now I am given a blink of an eye and the "she must be lesbian" look. It doesn't help that I've been wearing my hiking boots.

The end result is nice though. I feel more studious and focused. I feel liberated from the hair. And frankly, I think the shorter length shows off my neck and collarbone so it's a win-win.