Short Hair.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself on a FB memory or in a random selfie on my iphone that I took before the great shearing of 2021.

I am always startled and I tend to think before realizing that it’s me – wow, how pretty.

I know it’s me, but truthfully it feels like I am looking at someone else.

And in a way, I am.

The first reason I am looking at someone else is that in most of my (good) old photos, I am doing my signature move. Everyone has a go-to photo pose signature move.

Here are some examples of mine:

As you can see, my go to pose is: chin up/out/down (it’s a complicated move actually), lips together with a little smile that forces a slight dimple near the left corner of my mouth and head turned slightly to the right, preferably without a tilt) I am almost incapable of turning to face the world any other way, at least in photos.

So, as I say to myself “how pretty” I also know that it’s a little bit fakey fakey and let’s be honest – I probably took 3-100 pics to get the one I finally liked and used. So yeah, how pretty. 😆

Obviously, 28 pics in with my signature pose it isn’t exactly me. It’s a version of me. But not really the me-est of me’s.

The other reason it isn’t me is that now I have short hair. If you wanna rock your world, try shaving your head. And when your hair starts to grow in, bleach it white and dye it a peachy pink that is to die for.

What happens first is everyone notices you. I have had people on the street run up to me back when I was nearly bald just to tell me how much they loved my hair.

Really?

Yes.

At first I overtalked about it. I had a five minute monologue I trotted out anytime anyone mentioned my hair: how great it felt, why I did it, how I wanted it short but the barber actually basically shaved my head – all that.

I honestly don’t know how my workmates tolerated hearing the same schtick coming out of my mouth over and over and over as the public adjusted to “the new me”.

But seriously, I was called out and noticed not just by my gang of patients and friends, but by randoms on the street. And I don’t think it’s too hard to imagine that being told how great you look many times a day is a big lift to one’s mind, body and spirit. I digged it, and still do though now that my hair has grown a bit and people are getting used to it, I’m not being fawned over quite as often or with quite the same gusto and intensity.

Deep down, when it was super short one thing was obvious, at least to me. The comments of how great it looked were also a veil for “omg you’ve gone and shaved your head!!!”

Did it really flatter me, the initial cut? Probably not. But that wasn’t what made it so attractive to everyone. What made it so fabulous was the guts it took and the spirit needed to pull it off.

I know because at the end of my monologue I’d usually say – you should do it! – it would look great on you!….and invariably I’d hear one of two things: 1) I could never pull that off or 2) I had my hair that short once.

Never, or once. But certainly not now.

I was now admired for something people either felt they couldn’t do, or had only done and ever would do once. Interesting.

It is a shock. I’ll tell you that. Over about a ten day period right after the “haircut” I purchased maybe 2 or 20 wigs off Amazon just to deal with the drama of it all. Whenever I stumble across all those boxes of wigs I have to acknowledge I was a woman on the verge for a couple of weeks. I figure one day I’ll have a party and the guests will all be required to wear one of my wigs of shame and then we’ll cut and style each other’s hair and have a beauty contest.

Also the wigs are hilarious on babies and dogs. Still though, I bought a crazy amount of wigs until I adjusted.

Then I got over it and then I started to change.

I started wearing make-up and dangley earrings. I know that’s not an earth-shattering change but it happened and I also discovered that I look adorable in boy clothes. Hoodies and big stompy boots fit me to a T. Before, I always felt too busty and wrong for that look but suddenly my “look” changed completely.

I have to put “look” in “quotes” because prior to the great sheering, bleaching and coloring of 2021 I had settled into leggings, tanks and Island Slippers. Think of an après hot yoga look minus the sweat and uber-toned bod.

I looked this way all the time. At work. At home. On the couch. Asleep. Same thing. I was nothing if not consistently sporty-relaxed. Minus the sport and relaxation.

I added eyelash extensions and a freshly maintained mani-pedi to show that on some level I cared. But beyond that I couldn’t be bothered.

With the short hair though, I instantly became stylish. I was told by complete strangers that they liked my vibe. Can you imagine?

Thing is, I started digging it. As pretty as my long hair could be…..

I just felt more badass and whoopie fun with the short hair. And less desperate. The long hair was for me (especially when paired with my lash extensions) starting to feel a little desperate. My botoxed forehead was bumming me out, too, for that matter.

I was ready to wrinkle a bit more. And here’s a weird secret: short hair pairs beautifully with wrinkles. It just all flows and even though in photos I could look nice with the Rapunzel tresses IRL it was looking tired and didn’t really express anything fresh or fun or any vibe that anyone would go out of their way to want to embody.

But the short hair channels Judi Dench and Annie Lennox and Sharon Stone and Tilda Swinton and every other cool, ageless and timeless woman who’s decided she’s had enough.

(If Madonna and I were as close as we once were I’d suggest a shorter look. The long hair and work she’s had done is starting to undermine her strength and funky beautiful factor. She’d tell me to STFU and MMOB but not before I’d reminded her that no one wants to be the inspiration for the word sad. Ouch I know but friends look out for friends)

Moving on, the short hair has had the effect of breaking through the stereotype of wanting long hair, to be slim, to be slimmer, to be the slimmest I’ve ever been in my life, and to not have a double chin or chin hairs.

Ok I still don’t want the chin (or the hairs) although on Aidy Bryant she looks gorgeous with the chins so maybe it’s just another paradigm that needs shifting.

I think culturally we are learning to celebrate all shapes which is important because if you take care of yourself and look nice you look good whether you are tall or short or slim or big. Or how long or non-existent your hair is. It’s more about style and attitude.

The absolute worst is the place called “when I’m thin” where my head dwelled mentally for years. And the sad thing is, I am not alone. Even Oprah has lived in this place, and that woman has everything a person could want for.

Well, almost everything.

I have been slim here and there, but mostly I’ve teetered between thick and full-on chubby girl fat – delusionally believing that the right outfit will “make me look thin” (which is almost true but actually not true and even if it were true shouldn’t be running through my head every morning of every day as I try and get dressed)

I think one reason I settled on the leggings and tanks “look” is that I just let it be what it was going to be. And after years of putting on clothes that didn’t really look the way they did coming down the runway and not knowing how to dress myself and relate to my bigger girl body…it was a relief to settle on clean, nicely groomed, big smile and off you go.

Now though the world is styling big girls and suddenly we are pretty. Again I mention Aidy Bryant because she’s one of my girl crushes and thanks to her show I’ve seen her in her undies and she looks awesome. Also I have a texting friend who cares less about how pretty or ugly or small or big I am in any photo and more about the overall esthetics portrayed in the picture – and it’s liberating.

I’m also rereading Alan Cumming’s Tommy and he speaks so lovingly about a woman’s soft and curvy places that it helps me cast off some of the damage that was done the first time I ever opened a fashion magazine.

I always thought that bisexual men would prefer harder, leaner bodies – and some of them probably do. But there is also a thing where men love women’s bodies not in spite of their differences but because of them. Boobs, hips and tummies are lush and feminine and we are taught to hate all that an early age. But many men aren’t taught that and they just think…ooh, soft.

Boobs may not be a problem but very few women can be super skinny and have big boobs. Most of us have to be a little rounder or starve ourselves silly and then get implants or at least wear a push-up padded contraption to have a nice rack. Pick your poison but let’s not pretend 38-24-34 is even a thing.

I know I talk about body image a lot and I hate it that I do but it’s a big problem and feeling one’s self really loving one’s body, especially later in life when it all is starting to droop and sag – well it’s really special.

That’s what is happening to me.

The combo of not internet dating and not looking for a partner and instead having short hair and some of my own style over comforming to impossible beauty standards has pushed me further into self-acceptance, self-love, who cares anyway, and chocolate milkshakes when I’m in the mood.

I’m not my FOAT (fattest of all time) but I’m a bit fleshy at the moment. I’ve been eating and that’s ok.

I also did a big hike straight up a mountain Thursday and my legs are like rocks. The up was hard but the down was the brutal part. I was in a great mood because since discovering my anemia and iron problem and getting transfused, I can now hike better than ever. My stamina is back so hikes I did when I was weak and didn’t know it are now so much easier. Waihe’e is up up into the mist and it was fairly dry until we reached the top but then it started to pour down hard.

Thursday I was in such a good mood that nothing could be anything but a kick in the pants that day, not even coming down a mountain after a big rain – which is the worst in terms of slippage, fallage and the immense amount of concentration needed in order to avoid breaking your neck.

I did pretty well but there was this one Marx Brothers moment when I fell down coming off a step, got up, braced myself on the foliage then fell again but this time it was more like surfing then doing a 180 and landing on my hands and knees. Then Natalie fell too while I was sliding backwards on my hands and knees wondering how far I’d slide before coming to a grinding halt. It was hilarious. Almost as good as when a group of Indian tourists caught me crab-walking down a steep part because I will do anything, even crab walk, to fend off another fractured bone.

I still care about fitness and clean eating, but I had some swedish fish on the plane out to Maui because – they are divine and denying myself didn’t feel as good as those babies tasted.

My tummy is full and soft and that, too is ok. I can crunch a bit and can usually locate some core when I need it.

So that’s what short hair has done for me.

To recap: I get more attention and people think I’m way cool even before I open my mouth. I get to wear more boy clothes and have it look cuter. Style-wise it’s given me a nice little handicap (the golf kind) which is good because I’m not one to fuss over a wardrobe. Or to have anything that would even be called a wardrobe. I forgot to discuss the not having the worry about my hair blowing in my face but there’s a ton of that too. No need for hair ties and fussing. So it’s easier and more fun.

I would highly recommend short hair (with a great cut) and surprise surprise it looks great on everyone. The big lie (ok not THE big lie but A big lie) is that only some people can “pull it off”. Not not not true.

Here’s a bonus to end this post with. A good cut is a must if you go short. Natalie turned me on to this woman. Prepare to be amazed!

https://instagram.com/jayne_edosalon?utm_medium=copy_link