Like Madie, I just chopped all my hair off. (Ok, almost. There are still a few hairs left.) There must be something in the water this group drinks, Erins be warned.
|I'm the one on the left, yo.|
Unlike Madie, I don’t date men. Instead, I joined the ranks of the majority (I don’t know the stats, people, I’m just making assumptions) of lesbians who rock short hair as a life choice.
In other words, I am perpetuating my own stereotype.
I have spent most of my life following the rules. I love rules. If life had a rule book and all I had to do was follow it, I would win at life.
I’m a color inside the lines kind of gal.
So when I came out as a lesbian (or bisexual, or queer, or whatever the heck I came out as) it was a huge leap out of the box for me.
I was never alternative. Besides a brief stint in fifth grade when I wore only black clothes, I never rebelled. The craziest thing I did my freshman year of college, when most of the rest of my class was getting drunk for the first time (or 100th time) was die by hair (a natural color) and pierce my ear (in a normal place).
Needless to say, I haven’t exactly lived life on the edge.
And I’m cool with that. I read authors like Anne Lamott and Nadia Bolz-Weber, women who did crazy stupid shit in their pasts, because I have always dreamed of being a rebel and I simultaneously know that I could never break that many laws.
So I guess my haircut is pretty alternative, given how non-alternative I am.
I know we aren’t supposed to let looks define us, but I’ve been thinking about trying to let this hairstyle define me a little bit.
I spent most of my life living in the box and the only reason I stopped was because I had to choose between being true to myself and making everyone else happy. It's time to try something new.
Does something as simple as hair explain that to people?
But it was never about them anyway.