There is this myth that your hair always looks your best when you leave the hairdressers.
This is definitely not true for me.
It had been 12 months since my last hair cut and my hair needed a decent chop because of this.
My hair dresser is lovely and amazing and puts up with me and my fickleness so he deserves a medal.
So it’s all me.
He knows it. He says I’d be better off without the mirror during the process because I stress and fret and visibly disintegrate the longer the process takes.
Maybe if I was a long hairded beauty who went in for a trim and a blow wave I’d come out feeling a million dollars.
But no. I go for the make over. The new do. I don’t look like me when I leave.
And if I don’t look like the old me and nobody says that they like new me what am I to think?
Maybe it is a “boyish” cut. But I have boobs that err on the massive side so I know that I don’t look like a boy.
But girls have long hair. Long hair is pretty. This is a stereotype reinforced from a young age.
So my attempt at being different and unusual fails. I feel flat. Ugly. Plain. Etc.
I then start to question if I am ridiculously vain for feeling this way. Then I feel worse. And end up doing the weekly grocery shop in leggings and beanie.
My husband thinks that the haircut is sexy. He thinks his opinion should matter most to me. Maybe it should.
So in the meantime should I base my sense of worth on what other people think of me? Or if I can bake the perfect batch of cupcakes? Or if I look good in black? Or if I can parallel park like a pro?
Or maybe I’m good enough as I am. On my own right now. Dancing in the kitchen to Nina Simone and licking the peppermint buttercream icing off the spatula while contemplating another coffee… without a mirror in sight.