The first time I really thought about going for the crop was when I met Cam.
She was stunning–in that blessedly effortless, natural way I’d always hoped I would somehow grow into. Her flawless skin, piercing green eyes, and striking features didn’t need the cosmetic help that I had assumed was a standard part of every woman’s morning routine. I rarely saw her with makeup on and never ceased to marvel at how striking she was.
And her hair–naturally dark and curly–was cropped so close to her head she didn’t have to style it at all. I studied her in wonder, trying to figure out her secret–how did she pull off the gamine look and still manage to exude femininity and sex appeal? Cam had a subtle confidence that was never abrasive or obnoxious. She was just obviously comfortable in her own body and didn’t make a big deal out of appearances–hers or any one else’s.
How I envied that self-assurance. I would have given anything at that time to be free of the anxiety and insecurities that clung to me like a too-tight second skin.
Fast forward a few years. A few more of my friends had gotten pixie cuts, and they too looked sexy and carefree and amazing and I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could do it too.
Now perhaps at this point you’re thinking FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS VAIN, WOMAN! IT’S JUST HAIR!
And you’d be right. It is just hair.
And yet we rely on it, to hide our faces (fellow girls with round cheeks, you feel me?) and make us feel attractive. Long hair is beautiful, safe, expected. Short hair is…well, it depends. Definitely beautiful. Not always expected. And rarely safe.
I had worked hard to battle disordered eating and a shitty body image and conquered a lot of demons along the way. I was no longer the shy, body-obsessed teenager who hid behind a curtain of long, painstakingly flatironed hair.
I was stronger, more confident, and less obsessed over my perceived beauty. I had pushed two 9 pound babies out of my body, damn it! I was a woman!
And I was ready.
For months I googled obsessively. I read blogs about pixie cuts. I watched youtube videos about pixie cuts. I measured my face shape and looked at endless pictures. I waited and thought and planned and considered until–
I pushed aside my doubts (what if I hate it?) and worries (my face is too round!) and fears (I’ll look like a boy!), gave myself the requisite pre-haircut pep-talk (it’s just hair, it will grow out) and took the leap. On December 18, 2012.
I was getting sick of my hair anyway–it was time for a change. This is what I said goodbye to.
And this is what I said hello to.
In spite of my hairdresser’s reservations (“You’re sure you want to go that short…?”), I thought it turned out awesome. And I was so, so proud of myself.
What’s the biggest hair risk you’ve ever taken? Have you considered the pixie plunge?