For anyone who has seen my Facebook/Twitter/Instagram pages lately, you’ll have noticed that I recently went pixie. And for those of you who have known me for a few years, you’ll know just how drastically different my hair is looking now days. I’ve gone from Rapunzel to Peter Pan! It’s taken two years of consideration, gradually cutting my hair shorter with each trip to the salon. I’m fortunate enough that I seem to suit every length from belly button to pixie (though I did deliberately avoid the curt, chin-length bob… I think that would be a no-no).
I don’t think I have ever been as nervous over something as unimportant as a haircut as I was yesterday. I was literally wringing my hands as she lopped off the vast majority of my hair in one swoop, and then my heart started pounding as I realised ‘ok, there’s not really much else she can do with this now – no going back’. It’s funny. It’s only hair. I know that. And my hair grows fast enough that I really have nothing to worry about when it comes to bad haircuts – it will have grown to something nicer within a week or two. Three at most. I could wear a hat. Maybe it’s my ‘girls have long hair’ upbringing and past relationships drilled into me. It’s probably something to do with those dreaded wonderings of ‘will I look like a boy?’ and ‘will it make my cheeks look fat?’
There’s definitely a learning curve in styling a pixie crop compared to my old tried-and-tested ‘natural bed head’ look of the old days. I think I spent about forty-five minutes this morning arranging my funny little fringe. Luckily, the dreaded cow-licks of my temples seem to be well and truly snipped into submission *touch wood*. I’ll have to keep a close eye. Also, the nape of my neck feels strange, like my skin is protesting to being so exposed to the elements. Minor things.
Generally, my confidence has shot up skywards… funny how a haircut can do that. And somehow, I feel much girlier with short hair. I’ve discovered this morning that a pixie looks amazing with cat-flick eyeliner and red lips. I mean, I knew it looked great on other women – more specifically, celebrities, who we all know, are the exception to make fashion and beauty rules – but to think that I can feel great with a head rather lacking in hair with red lips and cat-flick eyeliner? Surprise, surprise. I feel great… until I take off my makeup, at least, and then those ‘do I look like a boy’ thoughts come back slightly. I doubt it, as I generally keep my makeup minimal anyway (today’s red lips clearly being an exception), but you know… I think it’s just something I’ll have to get used to as well.
Half-asleep me definitely needs to remember that the bedtime ponytail has gone. I didn’t realise until this morning that I have a habit of running my fingers through my ponytail just as I’m waking up. That was a shock to find it gone. I admit, I screamed a little bit. Half-asleep me has a terribly memory.
Maybe I’ll end up regretting it, once I know just how often I need to nip back for a trim, or once I start travelling for months on end once more and dealing with foreign hair stylists. Always a bit of a challenge. I bet growing it out will be a nightmare (again, the dreaded bob).
Still, right now, I am completely in love with my hair. And yes, I am going to be showing off about via Facebook – sorry FB friends of mine, but it has to be done.