Hairy Regrets

I am curious as to why I am so attached. Here I am, with one small backpack, lost and wandering and I have the vanity to regret chopping off my hair.

When I was 13 and in a fit of depression I cut all my long brown hair off to an ugly bob. But I didn’t stop there. Bleach and heavy make up hid my phenotype. It took me years and years to realize that my natural beauty is far better than trying to be someone who I am not. I was filled with regret and felt not beautiful.

Years passed and eventually my hair grew back, and I cut off the fraying orange that was left from the bleach. I was humbled by the beauty my hair seemed to carry, and how I felt without it. Sometimes when people tell me I’m beautiful, I find myself thinking, “you only think that because of my hair.”

This isn’t a happy or empowering post. This attachment isn’t something I’m proud of. But sometimes writing can be therepuetic, and I’m interested in understanding in myself this panic I am feeling from cutting my hair. What the hell, Raleigh! It’s just hair.

Beauty is not who you are. If you allow yourself to be nothing more than a body, then you will fade with your age. It is inevitable for wrinkles to line the years of laughter on your skin. It is inevitable that your hair will fall out. It is inevitable that beauty will fade.

Please do not be so silly as to create dispair from wanting something that is gone. You already cut your hair, and this emotion of mourning is just proof that you need to let go.

I wish I didn’t feel this way. I wish it felt like I was a warrior preparing for battle. That beauty was a sacrifice for traveling, for color, for life. That I am a woman not bound by the heavy burden of narcisism. But unfortunately, I find myself looking in the mirror and being angry at myself.

Why did you do that!

But I don’t think it’s just cutting my hair that’s the feeling. I think it has to do with it representing self destruction. How easy sissors are to find… how much can be destroyed with them.

But this thought of panic is destructive too. I am a soul, not a body! Sissors cannot diminish my value! Hair does not define me!

I allow myself to be free.

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