Living With A Pixie For A Year

It's almost been a year since I cut my hair. What? How?

I honestly cannot believe that I cut my hair in the first place. When I dream my hair is long and I wake up shocked that it is as short as it is. Sometimes I'll try and run my fingers through my hair and I realize that it's not there.

When I decided to cut my hair I told myself I needed to keep the pixie for a year. I change my mind all the time and I knew I would want something different a month later. I did contemplate growing my hair out and I don't think I knew why I wanted to do that. Maybe it was because people didn't like it or because I didn't know if they liked it. I struggled with knowing whether I liked it or not. Was I doing it to rebel? Was it because I'm gay? Was I doing it for this new season of life? I was overthinking it everything and I ended up keeping the promise of keeping the pixie for a year. Do I still love it?

Yes.

I think I love my hair more than I did when I first got it cut. Every time I go to get my hair cut I feel this sense of freedom and bravery. I know that's dramatic but it is true. I used to be afraid that my hairstylist would cut to much off of my already long hair. Now, I want her to hack at it. It can never be to short. The shorter the better. Every single time I go, I am surrounded by women with longer hair whose eyes widen every time my hairstylist pulls out the razor to buzz my hair. In the beginning, I was mortified. I kept wondering what these women were thinking. I just assumed that they all hated my hair. I would get up from my stylist chair and try to get out of there as soon as possible.

One day after I got my haircut I drove to Walmart for one thing or another. I was in the middle of the aisle when an older woman looks at me and says, "You look like a boy. Did you really have to get a queer haircut?" My gut immediately dropped, any ounce of courage that I had was crushed. If it were a movie I would have had a snarky remark that would make her shut up. Instead, I looked down and walked away. I held in my tears until I got to my car, I pulled out my phone and tried to see what they woman saw. Did I look like a boy? What is a 'queer' haircut exactly? I stopped crying and by the time I got home my face had a cleared up. I went to my bedroom, pulled out my phone, took a picture and wrote about what happened on Instagram. A flood of support poured in but I couldn't forget that woman's comment. I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to comprehend what happened. Then, my mom walked into the room and saw my hair.

"Why do you buzz it?" she asked.

I said the first thing that came to my head.

"Because, I like it."

And I did, I still do.

I look like a boy? Okay, that's an opinion. Did I have to get a 'queer' haircut? Hair doesn't have a sexual orientation. I am gay but, my hair has nothing to do with that. I decided to cut my hair because I wanted to do something different. I wanted something that fit my personality. I'm proud of the woman that I've become and I think my hair reflects that. When I came out to my mom she asked if the reason I cut my hair and didn't shave my legs was because I'm gay. I only shook my head no, because it wasn't. I did those things because they were things that I had wanted to do for a long time but was never brave enough to actually do. They were things that I wasn't supposed to do because they didn't fit the mold society creates for women. I pushed down so much of who I was because I was afraid to be different. I was afraid that others wouldn't like me. I'm not afraid anymore.

Today, when I got my haircut there was a woman behind me. As my hairstylist buzzed through my hair I could see the lady smiling. She didn't know that I could see her but I did. I struggled to not smile like an idiot. My heart lifted and I beamed with pride. When I got to my car my eyes filled with tears of joy. I cried not because the woman approved but because she saw how happy it made me and found joy in that. That woman will never know what she did for me.

I am so glad that I cut my hair. I don't think I'll ever look back at my short hair and not appreciate what it did for me.

So what did I learn from cutting my hair? I learned to not care about what people think, to a certain degree. I love all the new things that I learned about myself. I love being gay, I love hairy legs and I love my hair.

DFTBA
-AB

P.S. Maybe I'll be brave enough to do this next month...

Only time will tell