If I learned something these past few months of 2022, these are: First, cat research is YEARS behind dog research. And second, you MUST NOT go to the Salon when it's almost closing time.
When I was in elementary up until middle school my mother used to do experiments on my hair. Small colorful Sanrio hair ties locking up the French braids; Big pink headbands leaving a dent on my skull, and that one hairstyle that's famous during summer where my whole hair is swallowed by her hand pulled to the back to create a perfect Ariana Grande-esque ponytail using a beaded-fruit-designed hair tie that when flicked to my parietal lobe, causes a teeth-grinding-bowling-strike through my jaw. You can picture it–princess-like hairstyles. But when I reached high school, “old enough to make my own decisions” as my mother used to say, I became in charge of most of my life, specifically, of what I look like, going more specific, with my hair.
Being in charge of myself means simply that I don’t do anything…at all. All throughout highschool I never really cared about looks, which is on the top 5 lists of regrets. I’ve had THE SAME hairstyle everytime that I go to class–from 7th grade to 12th grade. Save I guess that era in 8th grade where I had an ‘emo phase' and let my hair down to my face for a year. I went from dark to light; from pinks to I <3 DEATH!
The redundant hairstyle that I made fuss about every 7 am in the morning was: hair in front pulled back out of the face and clipped with a small plastic hair clip that almost always breaks. Kind of like Amity Blight's hairstyle from The Owl House, but longer (near the abdomen area), no unique color (just black), and less…cooler–meaning, dull and all over the place.
Fast forward to the month of May, year 2022, at exactly 7:00 pm. For some reasons unknown, I wanted to cut my hair. The length was almost exceeding my shoulder at that time but I just had the sudden urge because I hate that it sticks to my face. So I knew I needed to–or so I thought.
It could’ve been cut the next morning, or the day after, but no, we waited. We waited until there was an available hairstylist…until it was close to their cut-off time, which is 8 pm.
There was the urge, but I came prepared. I had a reference: This picture of the ever so amazing, Helena Bonham Carter.
The lady who cut my hair was obviously tired. It made my stomach churn to realize that it’s nearing the end of their working hours but I made them work almost overtime. However, I was already seated with a black cloth draped over my chest and wrapped securely on my neck. It’s too late to feel sorry.
The woman’s tiredness was evident but she made sure to be as lively and friendly as she spoke to me. I showed her the reference photo I saved from Pinterest and asked her to cut it a tad bit shorter than the photo–BIG mistake.
Next thing I knew, the hair on my nape was being shaved, and my lips were sealed shut--stupefied. Then she started asking me questions as to why I needed to cut my hair? Was it either I was going through a sad break up or that because I’m a lesbian?
–I do like girls ma’am, but that’s not the point! don’t cut any furtherrrr.
If I learned something these past few months of 2022, one of them is that you MUST communicate with your hairdresser! (don’t just smile and nod you doofus!)
It’s been months but I still carry the weight of having this not so stereotypical hairstyle for women, which is heavy, I can say. However, from looking like a curtain of sadness, now I have a pixie cut!!!
I honestly thought I was gonna bawl in the toilet for having that hairstyle from one episode of Fleabag (It’s FRENCH!), after exiting the salon, but I didn’t! It might’ve even awakened something in me– like looking at myself in the mirror felt like a new somebody, like it wasn’t me–in a kind of good way. These events in our life don't come planned, sometimes…they come by surprise.
Hair is everything. It’s our crowning glory. But change– it’s truly something.
I also learned from this mistake that service workers are not robots. It was really dumb and insensitive of me to push through eventhough it’s almost already past their working hours and I shouldn’t glorify their resilience of putting up with me even if they’re obviously drained for the day. Which is also something that I have drilled in my head this year–DON’T BE INSENSITIVE! Service workers are NOT robots!
That’s all! Thank you for reading!
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