My Super Short Hair (Is Kind Of Weird)

Good light, good day. :)

So this hair! It’s odd, guys.

By now, I am used to not having any. It doesn’t brush my shoulders or my neck. It doesn’t get in my way, EVER. It’s easy to wash, easy to forget about. For the first few weeks, I actually kept forgetting to take SHOWERS because I was accustomed to my dirty hair reminding me to go wash up. (No, I didn’t forget for two weeks straight! Ewww.)

Sometimes it’s very soft to the touch, and other times it seems very wiry. I have insanely thick hair and also, apparently, numerous cowlicks that I didn’t know about. NOW I know why my bangs never cooperate without severe disciplinary action, and why my hair really only likes to go in one particular sort of way.

Also, I’ve mostly gotten over my apprehension about my looks. For a girl who’s had long-ish hair most of her life, and who defined some of her beauty by what kind of good-or-bad hair day she was having, it’s so very odd not to have much hair to speak of. It’s not that I feel like a different person now – it’s more that I realized that my hair has nothing whatsoever to do with my attractiveness.

My beauty is in the way I speak, the way I act, the way I walk and look at people and what makes me laugh. My beauty is in my eyes, my smile, the dimple I love (that I inherited from my Dad’s side of the family). My beauty is in the curves I have that I’ve accepted after so many years of hating them. My beauty is in my attitude.

In a weird and surprising way, I am grateful that we had lice in our house in December. Without that stress, and without my last-ditch attempt at sanity (by shaving my own head), I would never have discovered this gift:

That I am myself no matter what I look like.