YES. I CUT IT…
The year was 2015. It was January and my birthday way coming up. It was also the start of my quarter life crisis but that’s another blog… At this point I was struggling with myself, more specifically my appearance and how I perceived my physical appearance.
I was born bald and blonde and that changed to the complete opposite by the time I was five. I had really fine hair like my mom and by six my mom let me make my own choice whether or not I wanted to cut my hair. I said yes and my hair length went from butt to earlobe. Yes. I cut it that short. That was my first mistake in life. Why you may ask, because the hairdresser my mom took myself and my sister to was probably the furthest thing from a professional. She had no idea that cutting hair that drastically actually makes your hair go into shock and changes your hair texture. So I went from silky, long hair to thick, unmanageable, mushroom shaped hair that my mom had no idea how to handle.
I then spent my teenage years growing up with relaxed hair to try and get it somewhat decent. Don’t even get me started on the straightening almost everyday to get my bangs (self cut) straight. Sigh. The damage I was living with hurts my heart to think about now but honestly I didn’t know any better.
As I finished high school and started my studies at university, I started getting annoyed. My hair was damaged and I could see that but I refused to cut it. I was attached to my hair. The men in my life (dad, uncles, granddad etc.) always complimented me only when my hair was straightened. The boys I liked only seemed to like the girls with the long straight hair. My long (damaged) straight hair became my security blanket. I needed it to feel beautiful, attractive, sexy, … (fill in the blank really).
In addition I got fed up with the constant struggle of forcing it to be straight but it was growing out of my head curly.
I then watched a YouTube video about this girl who cut her hair off and she had the exact same feeling towards her hair as I did. But it was for that exact reason that she cut her hair off. With that, I got the courage I needed, booked the appointment at a professional this time, and cut it all off!!!
I genuinely don’t have the words to describe the feeling. Freedom is the word that comes to mind. In its truest sense. I felt free from the box I, as well as the box society, created. I was free from living up to the expectations of what men want from me. I was free from the standard of beauty society had me believe. I was free from feeling the need to impress everyone around me. I was free to do things for me. I never felt more light, happy and beautiful than I did in that moment. I couldn’t stop smiling and touching my hair (or at least what was left of it).
What the hell took you so long Darcy????!!!
Although we’ve come along way as women, I still know many women who still hold on to the conventional stereotype of what a woman should look like. Which is total bullshit. But I also get it because I was one of them. It takes so much strength and bravery to step into yourself and break-free from any chain holding us down. Fear of rejection and not being accepted was my driving force. But I realized that my hair was just that. Hair. Nothing more, nothing less. And although it is part of my body, it is not me. I am not my hair.
And neither are you.
