An Honest Response On Why I Cut My Hair

We are obsessed with hair, it is a fact. Walk down the aisles of any supermarket or pharmacy and you’ll be greeted by over twenty brands promising you: smoother, longer, shinier locks. I would be lying if I said I haven’t fallen into the same trap as everyone else, looking for different ways to make my hair look more like the women in those ads.

Thinking about it now, I find that rather ironic considering how frequently I hear someone say they would “give anything” for my hair. I do understand why: it is very long and somehow I’ve been lucky enough to have the kind of hair that can be worn curly or straight. And yet I stand in those aisles just like everyone else, wondering if a new product will make my hair something even better than what it is.

It isn’t our fault really, our obsession starts from such a young age. During our most impressionable years we are unintentionally taught that only the beautiful are those we should aspire to. I grew up being told that I had a pretty face, a compliment most women over a size eight typically hear. It’s a compliment focused solely on the part of your body that isn’t affected by weight – something else this world is obsessed with, but a topic for another article. I spent most of my years growing up believing that the only thing that made me beautiful, the only part of me that was ever worth mentioning, was my face.

I remember feeling relieved that I at least had one feature everyone admired, one part of me that made me beautiful to the outside world. Then I got sick. A brief stint with Bell’s palsy, something myself or my family never saw coming, which left the right side of my face completely paralyzed for the better part of a year. There was nothing I could do. I remember the doctors saying that there was a chance that I would never get back the use of the right side of my face. I spent months locked in my house, only going to work with a baseball cap securely attached to my head, always with my face pointed to the floor. I had the one thing that I believed made me beautiful taken away, and I didn’t want anyone to see.

Eventually, over the course of that year, my face started to come back, but with one major complication – the nerves in my face that had died during my paralysis were growing back incorrectly, and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it. I regained the ability to blink my right eye, something I hadn’t been able to do in almost a year, but there were still factors I couldn’t control. The moment I became tired that eye would droop, to the point that it was closed because the nerves in my eyelid were too weak to keep it open. To this day I cannot yawn without my right eye clamping shut, and my smile will never be the same.

I know that I am lucky, some patients never regain the mobility in their face, but it was my face – the one thing I believed at the time that made me beautiful. I didn’t know what to do, I quickly became depressed and withdrawn from the world. I only went out when it was absolutely necessary for fear that everyone would notice the difference in my face.

I remember one night being on the phone with a friend who was having an issue with her own self-acceptance and, while I reminded her how wonderful she was, I realized that I was being a better friend to her than I had ever been to myself. Quickly after I hung up with her, I stood in front of a mirror and looked at my face – I acknowledged every part of it that I now hated. I even said some of it out loud. And I let it go.

I started to point out everything I loved about my face and, when I was done, I started to list everything that I loved about the person I was. I have done this almost every day since. I believe that if we don’t allow ourselves to see the truly beautiful souls that we are, we will never be able to see the beauty in others.

And now, every time I have insecurities about what I have to offer the world, I stand in front of that mirror and start my list again. As the years have passed, I have focused more on who I am as a person, and less on my physical features. It sounds silly, but saying the kind words to yourself that you find so easy to say to a friend can do wonders for your self-esteem. I end every list with a sassy little mental wink at myself in the mirror and a quick “plus you have great hair,” acknowledging that one physical trait left that I believe adds to my beauty.

In the past two months my life has become complicated – things completely out of my control have made things difficult, leaving me with a feeling of complete helplessness. So one day, when I stood in front of my mirror and went through my list, I had a massive realization at the end. Without knowing it, my hair had become a major vessel for my self-esteem. Sure, I had made large strides in acknowledging that I was more than someone who was beautiful solely for their physical features, but I still used my hair as a crutch. If I wore it long and flowing, I felt beautiful; if I was having a bad hair day, it worsened my mood, and if I received compliments on my hair, I instantly felt that I had more value. Considering the amount of work I put into accepting that I was more than what my body portrayed to the world, I felt like a part of me had betrayed myself. Without realizing it, I had left one part of my body in a way that everyone around me believed was beautiful to give myself more validation.

So, I’ve decided to cut it off. Maybe that seems like nothing at all to some people. “It’s just a haircut” or “It will grow back” is something I’m sure anyone reading this will think: but I need to do this. I haven’t had my hair short since I was a child and this right now is me being completely out of my comfort zone. I know physical self-acceptance is a lifelong journey for so many of us, but if getting sick all those years ago taught me one thing, it was that we are so much more than what our faces have to offer.

I have cut away my hair safety net so I am forced to accept once again that, no matter how I look or what I wear, I am a soul in a temporary body, and none of these things matter. I am not naïve enough to say that looking in the mirror and liking what you see isn’t important, but I’ve learned that there is a difference between liking what you see in the mirror, and still understanding that it does not define who you are inside.

So, dear friend reading this, (you are a friend now, aren’t you?) find a way to challenge yourself. Find something about yourself that you know needs a little work, and challenge yourself to make it better. Force yourself to take a class you are too scared to try; be kind to that stranger who serves you your coffee every day; chop off all of your hair or travel somewhere new by yourself, because at the very least, you will learn more of who you are inside.

And I can promise you that you are someone completely worth it.