Poems, photos, rants and raves that are all inevitably me in one form or another.
When my manager noticed that one of my coworkers cut her hair today, it turned into the discussion of male preference for long or short hair. Every guy there had a preference for long hair, without hesitation. It kind of annoyed me—not because I take offense, because it wasn’t about my personal attractiveness.
However, I feel like it’s absolutely a matter of femininity. I bet that if you’d ask most guys, they would voice a preference for long hair. I think that long hair seems to imbibe a greater sense of “female-ness,” of girliness, of beauty. The long, flowing locks. I’ll admit that I lament not having long hair; I’ve tried to grow it out a handful of times, but always get frustrated when it gets to its awkward phase and I chop it off. I would say that short hair “suits” me, but that seems to follow the traditional trope that because I am less feminine, I have shorter hair.
I think it’s entirely possible to be feminine and beautiful with short hair (and, no, not because I have short hair. If you’ve learned anything from reading my tumblr, it should be my absolutely lack of self confidence). So why are men so attached to long hair? Is it truly an aesthetically pleasing trait? Or just the notion that it is a feminine ideal?
So the history between my boyfriend and I and his ex-girlfriend is a little complicated, lalalala, won’t get into that—but in summary, though we’ve never met (that is, she and I), I think it’s suffice to say that we do not qualify as each other’s favorite person, remotely.
After a few glasses of wine the other night, Boyfriend (affectionately referred to hereon as either “Boyfriend” or “D”) and I were talking about things that alcohol encourages you are, really, a good idea to talk about. He then informs me that when his ex learned of us being together, she was upset, and commenced in trashing my hair, stating that it signified someone who didn’t know what they wanted to do with their life, attention-craving, unfocused, etc. For those of you who have never seen my pictures, I have strawberry blonde-ish hair and about a quarter of it is purple (with a liiiitle pink streak). I would post a picture but I currently am sweaty and gross from working out so I will spare you. I was initially quite upset to learn of her words, but after giving it some consideration:
Yawn. Come up with something more original and less outdated to trash me about, please. While it is certainly true that there are professional guidelines that still hold true regarding one’s state of personal hygiene and dress, and when the time comes, I will address those concerns, I simply wish to convey myself in a unique way. Do I do this for attention? No. My tattoos, my many piercings, plugs and purple hair are all things that I find interesting or cool, and wish to express myself in that way. I don’t care if someone finds them tasteful or not. Perhaps I took most offense to the reported words because I don’t like anyone hating on me when I have done nothing to intentionally hurt them, but also because I am still in the process of figuring out my life right now, and maybe I feared that she was right. But, when it comes down to it, I feel that my options are quite expansive, and I look forward to the challenge of determining what it is I will do in a way that requires mental exertion and is financially responsible. D likes me in spite of or because of these things, and that’s great—though they do not define me in any way, shape or form, but merely add to the larger picture.
One of my least favorite things is when people attack me without even knowing me. Someone who knows nothing of my struggles, my work ethic, my intelligence, my ideas, and finds it worth their time to attack my hair of all things, is simply not worth the mental exertion. It may still sting, but ultimately, I still think I’m awesome, despite and because of my purple hair.