I have only chopped my hair once. By “chopped” I mean cut my hair to a length of a couple of inches—extremely short. I had just graduated from high school and I wanted a big change in my physical appearance to accompany the big change in my life. I was very excited about it. I even took a picture of a girl in my high school who had a hair cut like I wanted so I could show my stylist what I wanted. My grandparents had come up from Florida for my graduation ceremony, so I told them about my “big” decision. I described the new haircut as “short and spiky.” My grandma seemed indifferent. Grandpa, however, was concerned. He said he thought that I would be identifying with the punk rock culture. This upset me. I didn’t want to be a punk rocker—I just wanted extremely short hair. He reacted like I had told him I started using heroin. I said, “Well, Grandma’s hair is short—is she identifying with punk rockers?” Looking back, I think I wasn’t upset at Grandpa, but upset that he didn’t understand or approve. After I settled down I showed him the picture of the girl from high school so he could understand what I wanted. Then he understood and apologized.
My mother was quite sad that I wanted to cut my hair so short. She told me that she prayed to God for a girl with long, curly reddish hair. When that was what she got she promised God she would never cut off the girl’s hair. But I wanted to: I had just graduated high school, I was my own person, and I wanted something new and edgy. After the haircut, however, I decided never to cut my hair short again. Long, curly hair is beautiful. Mid-length curly hair is still pretty. Very short, curly hair never looks right--at least on my head it didn’t. It was cute and fun for about a month. Then it was annoying and never did what I wanted it to. So I decided to let it grow out. |
Name: Ruthie