When it comes to my physical appearance, I’ve sort of stopped caring. I don’t mean that in a depression sort of way, I mean in more like “eh, conforming to beauty standards isn’t my thing.” So I don’t care much if I don’t wear make up or wearing the most stylish clothes or whatever. Jealous of the people who DO have A Grade makeup and style game, but it’s also not the end of the world that I’m not on their level of expertise and skill.
Same thing with the weight. I stopped caring a while ago. The hair on my body is a bit of an issue, but I can deal. Same thing with my acne. It sucks and I hate it, but I’m not rushing to hide them or giving two shits to find a miracle cure (unless it’s REALLY bad and super red and just like “ugh, go away before my next interview).
My hair though? Completely different story.
When it comes to my hair, I am 100% a slave to it. And I don’t mean I spend hours styling it. It’s hard to explain.
See, my hair is SUPER thick and heavy. I’ll probably never go bald. And it’s also natural wavy (and it sucks). Because of this, growing my hair out was near impossible. I looked like a dustmop and it was ugly and unhealthy and just ew.
But for the longest time, I would not cut my hair short. When I was a kid (like 6-11), I had really bad associations with short hair. Mainly because when I got my hair cut at Great Clips, they cut it into the style of a boy.
Like this. On a little girl who was already bullied at school for being fat and being VERY boyish.
Basically, thanks for extra boost of the low self esteem.
So for almost my entire elementary school life, everyone (and I mean EVERYONE, strangers/adults included) all consistently called me a boy because I had no boobs (didn’t get those until about like 6th/7th grade, thanks puberty), a boyish looking face, wore dude clothes because I was one of those girls who believed pink was icky and lame, and didn’t like skirts because whatever tomboy reasons I had.
Like I would go to the fucking restroom to pee and a woman would put their unwelcomed hand on my shoulder and tell me that “The boy’s restroom is over there.”
This fucked me up mentally to the point where I grew out my hair just so people would identify me by my correct gender. I hated how my hair looked long (if you can call it long when it barely went to the shoulder), but I hated the idea of being called a boy even more, so I did everything I could to get it long. Never got it past my shoulder, but at least people identified me as a girl. The boobs might have helped, but still.
So when I FINALLY decided to cut my hair short again when an actual professional stylist did the cut in the 10th grade, I cried.
I bawled like a little bitch in that stylish chair because my hair was short and it brought back the worst flashbacks ever.
Now clearly, if you look through my selfie tag, I kept the short hair. Mainly because my hair looked better/healthier because of it and it was in a style I liked. Also I’m a lazy shit and short hair is just more easily managed that long hair.
BUT
I, to this day, LOATHE getting a hair cut. I mean, I obviously get it cut because if I don’t, I’d have Rapunzel hair by now. But I am SO picky and tense about the stylist cutting it too short or doing something I don’t like that brings back those horrible memories and feelings during when my hair was “boy short.”
That was one of the many reasons why I had the long sideband pixie cut. It made my face look feminine and I felt cute and pretty and girly and it was fun to dye my bangs a certain color and have that whole “two-toned” look going.
And then yesterday, I got a fucking hair cut because my hair was getting WAY too thick and crazy (which made it greasy, ew) and the stylist told me that the reason for that was that my bangs were too long and making it heavy. And yeah, my bangs were too long and I was like “yeah, trim them and shorten them if it’ll make the top part thinner or whatever.”
That apparently translated to “chop them off.”
And now I have a haircut where my bangs are short and look uneven when they’re pushed to the side and they’re naturally wavy and the back of my hair is puffing up and I swear to god I have seen this exactly same haircut on little boys.
So now I practically want to set myself on fire every time I look into a mirror/camera with this damn thing (or at least just shave the whole thing off and wear wigs for the rest of my life) because I absolutely hate it. I just flashback to that time I was kid and remember all the shitty feelings that I ever felt when I was that age.
I really thought I was over it, but I’m not. I just tried taking some selfies and I wanted to throw myself off a bridge. Like I literally want to throw up right now and I’m pulling at my hair as if it will somehow magically make my bangs grow longer by tomorrow. I’m already pulling out hairs because of this shit.
I feel tense and vulnerable and as if everyone is staring at me when I know no one gives a single fuck but me. If I could rip the hair off, I would. Hell, I’m already subconsciously pulling out my hair, so it doesn’t mean like it will be long now.
And even I’m like “you’re being stupid,” but I can’t stop it. I know there are also products and stuff to “style it up and feminize it,” but I don’t use products because I know I won’t use them because a) I’m lazy and b) I don’t even know how to style anything properly, let alone my fucking hair.
I know my face is more feminine, I wear more feminine clothes, I sometimes put on makeup, and hell, I even got fucking titties, so I know people probably see me and think “girl!”
But it’s the idea that they see my hair and think “boy” and all that bullying and constant “kid, this is the girl’s area” shit from the past just makes me want die from this hair.
My hair is such a sensitive thing for me, definitely my biggest insecurity and I hate it, someone give me back my hair.
------------------------
------------------------
Journal CSS made by
caybeachBrushes by
gvalkyrie