My hair is not simply hair to me and it is not merely a choice of aesthetics. If that were the case, I wouldn’t just grow my hair out; I would put streaks of fire into it. Bright reds and iridescent blues and greens so calming that they remind you of paintings of mermaids or the ocean on the shore. I would feather it, cut it, make it stand for something that the world could see. But as it is, the message that I want my hair to give, is for myself. It’s a message of hope; a message of “fuck you, I made it and I’m here.’”
When I was a little girl, I loved long hair. I was deeply upset when I’d cut my hair and realized that it wouldn’t grow back right away. That I would have to wait years for it to get as long as I wanted it. As long as a princess’ if you’re wondering. By the time I was seven I told my mother not to cut my bangs anymore.
At the time I thought it was just because I was afraid of the scissors gliding swiftly in front of my eyes and the fear that they would impale them if I did not stop the blades from coming. It didn’t take me long to realize however that I wasn’t afraid of the scissors. I was afraid of my mother. I didn’t want the control she had over my hair to affect what I wanted. I didn’t want those scissors in her hands deciding when my hair was long enough and when it needed to be destroyed.
By the time I was ten my hair could cover my face entirely when it fell like a curtain across the sides of my cheeks. At that time in my life, I was a tornado and no matter what I did, I kept drawing more and more shit into the storm. Classmates were teasing me, family was telling me I wasn’t worth jack, my brother was incarcerated in Germany and I might never see him again. My hair became a shield, blocking out the faces of my tormentors and protecting me from their harsh reality when enough became enough. I decided I didn’t want to cut my hair.
I was past the age of wanting it to be like Ariel’s or Aurora’s, now I was thrust into a world where I just needed one fucking break. So I let it grow. I let it grow until it surpassed my shoulder blades and sprawled like ivy vines down my back. By thirteen it had hit the top of my jeans and by fifteen it surpassed that. Now it hangs to the tops of my thighs and it offers more than protection from the outside world. I don’t have control over my life. I have to go to school because I can’t handle the stress of a full time job yet and I go to work because I can’t afford to buy clothes or my own food. I live at home so I live by my parents’ rules.
The one thing that I have utter and complete control over is my hair. No one can tell me to cut it and force me to follow through. My hair is my own and if you don’t like it, then fucking tough. I made it through life up until this point, balancing on the edge of the cliff and nearly falling off multiple times. Fuck you, I’ve made it and I’ll have my fucking trophy.
I know that the future is only ever unpredictable and that eventually my thoughts will change and my wants will become more or less diverse, but I cannot shake the feeling that I’m going to be facing my life alone. I might be able to have animals and adopt children as I get older, but I cannot beckon a fierce and strong love into my life on a whim. I can’t fathom anyone loving me so deeply. Or loving me at all.
You know I was just thinking about how Craig wears contacts so when he goes home he’ll take them out and have to wear glasses to see
And I just
ALL THE TIME
You mean like this…
Brilliant, inexpensive health innovation by Ethiopian women health workers: a hut on the grounds of the health outpost where high-risk pregnant women can stay so they won’t have a long walk to get care when labor begins.
Kid has his priorities sorted out
okay so coral blue number 5 semi gloss lipstick
i want it and i don’t even wear lipstick
SHE IS REAL
SHE IS REAL
Julie Andrews: Chin In My Hands pt. 3 | Journey from Princess to Queen (1957-2001)
News Anchor in my area loses it over a Fat Cat that likes to swim.
Mail On Sunday 20th July 2014.
#nails #nailpolish #unionjack #hbc #helenabonhamcarter #pale
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