I love my hair and I’m not afraid to say it. Since I got my first bob in middle school, it’s been my ultimate favorite way to change up my look. I’ve had it long (for me) and I’ve had it in a ton of short styles. I wanted to write about my hair not just to show you a bunch of photos of myself, but because I also hope this inspires someone to be a little more fearless. I’ve got a lot to say, so I’m splitting things into two installments.
First, I want to tell you how I got here, mentally. When people ask me why I have short hair, this is the little piece of my past I share:
In high school, I went through phases of having short hair and growing it back out. I’ve gone from lengths past my shoulder to poorly-executed Bieber cuts. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
When I got to college, I had hair that looked like this:
A few months into my freshman year, one of my male friends told me that guys would like me more if I had longer hair. I like to think that I’ve always been a proud member of the Short Hair, Don’t Care club, but I let his comment get to me. I had nearly always had a boyfriend in high school, but college was a different ballgame. I was single and thought this might be the key to getting myself a college boyfriend. So I grew my hair out.
I semi-jokingly tell people that guys did seem to pay more attention to me once the back of my head didn’t look so much like a dude’s. “Statistically,” I say, “more boys danced with me at frat parties when I had longer hair. It was exponential.” That’s a little bit of exaggeration, but also a little bit of truth. In the end, my hair never got me a boyfriend.
I’ll admit that I loved my long hair, but I still held a candle for my pixie days. Halfway through my junior year and about 1.5 years into rocking my longer locks, I decided to go short again. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. (Side note: I was living across the hall from the same guy who told me I should grow my hair out when I went for the cut. He didn’t want to talk to me for 2 days after.)
The moral of the story is that I finally recognized that I feel more like myself when I have short hair. Where long hair or a great pair of jeans or giving a solid presentation at work may make other women feel powerful, my short hair makes me feel like I run the world. I’ve got a positive feedback loop going: my short hair gives me confidence, and my confidence makes my short hair look even better. I do still have my moments of weakness when it comes to wanting to fit in, but whatever’s going on on top of my head is one thing that I’ve fully conquered.
And that guy friend of mine? He’s promoted me to president of the Short Hair, Don’t Care club. I’ll take that as a compliment.
Stay tuned for part 2, where I’ll reconstruct the history of my hair through my Instagram #tbt posts and selfies!
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