Short Hair, Really Don’t Care
Photo courtesy of flickr.

Short Hair, Really Don’t Care

 

A few weeks ago I hacked my unruly mane distraught with split ends, flyaways, dryness, dullness, thinness and a list of other unpleasing qualities in favor of a risk: an ultra- short pixie cut.

The fleeting thought was always in the back of my mind, whether or not to make the chop. It was like a glorious and unattained fantasy. I never thought I would have the lady balls to do it.

Like any large decision in my life, it was made in five minutes with the question, “Could it really get any uglier?” Let me say now, I just adore it. I feel as if I was handcrafted for this haircut and the general sassiness I feel as a result.

When one is at the salon, the expected comments are “Are you sure you’ve never had short hair before?” and “You really pull it off, you have the right face,” but they kept coming after I left. That was a good sign.

A complete stranger told me I looked like an enchanted fairy. Surprisingly enough, no one has questioned my sexuality as of yet.

Not that there is anything wrong with any sexuality, just to clarify.

It is simple to do this hair. I understand how easy the majority of men have it. Even if I do not have the desire to do my hair, it still appears I did with the help of a little spray wax.

Hair products will last longer. I can buy salon brands now since they actually last more than a month. I can justify that in my twisted little mind.

In addition, I will be able to grow out my natural dark blonde after about three straight years of torture involving every hue imaginable. It was fun for me but not so much for my hair. Right now it is a mix of black, a bit of bleach blonde from stripping, a bit of chocolate brown dye over the stripping and a peak of an ashy blonde. I call it ombre a la raccoon.

Bonus: my hair is in a somewhat healthy condition now. Soon the world will never know the great atrocities I inflicted upon it in the dark days they call senior year of high school.

Aside from physical benefits, I believe this hair makes me bolder. I do not care what people think of me. Well, except for future employers.

I care what they think about some things. As for the rest of the human population, I could really give a darn. How could I? I have no blanket of hairspray and jet black hair dye to hide behind.

Girls, take it from a chick who used to pride herself on having big, teased hair ratted to the great heavens above, go pixie at least once in your life. You will not regret it.

 

MyKayla Hilgart

News Editor 

mhilg143@uwsp.edu

 

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