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I have dreamt about having long hair for a very, very long time. I’ve had a variety of hair-dos/styles/lengths throughout my 27 years, some which I liked and some I didn’t, but I never really took my hair too seriously. I always said, hair grows back and if you want to try something, try something – if you don’t like it, that’s what hair accessories are for…

For the past ten (yes ten) years, it feels as if my hair has been in a constant state of growing out. I got a pixie cut my senior year of high school (inspired by Mandy Moore) and I kept it for a year. People claimed to like it (“super cute – very artsy…”) but deep down I’m not sure that I really did (and that’s the most important thing, right?). I don’t regret it at all and I’m glad I tried it, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t me.


I spent the next 3 years growing it out, going through an extreme awkward phase which can only be described as a ‘white girl fro’, as well as trying out a variation of bangs (self cut obviously) which with thick, wavy, hair and a cowlick, wasn’t easy to manage. I always had a mess of bobby pins in my hair, which I found kind of annoying, but it was what it was. For some reason I always felt a little pride that I didn’t take my hair too seriously and that I liked to try new things. I liked that my long time hairdresser (when I went to one) told me I was her favorite client because I was so adventurous. But somewhere in the back of my mind I was a little insecure about it. When I had a bad hair day, I had a bad day – I hated everything about the way I looked and I was frustrated.

By senior year of college my hair was the longest it ever was and I loved it. I curled it, straitened it, braided it – it was fun. Then Victoria Beckham came out with her asymmetrical bob. God help me, I wanted that style so bad, I was going to cut it myself. At Christmas break, I booked it to the hairdresser with my pictures of posh spice. She was just as excited to do this style on me and didn’t ask me if I was sure I wanted to cut off so much of my hair like she did before my pixie cut (“are you sure you want to cut that much off? It’s going to look amazing, but It’s a huge change, I don’t want you to hate me…”).  I was so happy with the results and I didn’t tell my friends before I went back to school. I wanted it to be a surprise – I kind of liked the ‘shock factor’. They loved it too and despite the bangs I still had which I told myself I definitely need to grow out (so I guess it wasn’t technically the ‘real’ posh spice bob) and it was a decent amount of work to constantly straighten my bob, I was determined to keep this hairstyle for a while…


Enter finals study break. My roommates had all gone home, but with my family in Boston, I chose to stick it out and get things done on campus. With graduation rapidly approaching a few days away, I decided I needed a trim (badly). After looking up prices in town and staring at my depleting bank account, I wasn’t willing to fork over the cash to get my hair professionally done… I decided I was going to trim MY BOB myself. Now at 21 years old with years of experimenting with cutting my own hair (and my sister’s  – but thats another story), you would think that I would have had second thoughts or just flat-out known better. But no. It was kind of a disaster at best. The more I trimmed, the worse it looked, and 15 minutes later I panicked and dropped the scissors in the sink. I think most girls would have started crying and truth be told, I was about to, but instead I opened my laptop and pulled up two tabs on the browser. On one, I re-googled hair salons walkable to my campus and on the other, I googled something to the effect of “cute, short, hair cuts”. I found some styles that I figured could work with my hair’s current state of length and disaray and a moderately priced salon a 20 minute walk away.

I remember the next morning leaving my dorm room with a hat and giant sunglasses on. Super dramatic, especially since it was an early saturday morning and half of the campus was gone anyways. I did get a multitude of stares when I entered the salon, mainly from several small kids getting their hair trimmed to the tune of $50. I don’t know whether the hairdresser I got was in a bad mood, or if there was truly nothing that could be done, but she said that the only way to fix my hair and have it grow out normally was to do a pixie cut. And with no time or money to get a second opinion, I did just that…

(to be continued…)


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