I tied my hair back mid-pose in yoga this evening.
Haven’t done that for nearly three years. About 2 years ago I had long, blonde hair. I could never work out how to tie it during yoga; at the top of my head meant I couldn’t lie down. At the base of my neck meant I couldn’t do a shoulder stand. I would spend the entire class tying and re-tying the hair.
ps, is my nose getting bigger in these photos or is it just me?
Long enough that I’m right back where I started, in a yoga class, struggling to work out how to tie my hair. It jolted me back to the long-then-short-blonde-hair time of my life…
I’d purposely asked a friend’s lesbian sister the best place to get my hair done on the idea that at least it would be edgy and funky. Wrong. The place felt right; black walls, chicks in black doc martins and thick eyeliner, swear words in every language graffiti’d over the wash basin room walls. But the cut came out all wrong. It was way too short. Supposed to look like Keira Knightly, I, not suprisingly, ended up looking like Ella Degeneres.
Didn’t care though. There was nothing I wanted more at the time than to be completely utterly different from all the other girls around me with their long locks and short bangs. I think it was the first time I’d publicly gone against the internal culture cues I’d grown up with and my inner rebellion had finally found an outer expression. My hair was my own to do with as I wished and mass opinion could just fuck off. Well, I didn’t use the term ‘fuck off’ of course, grounds for termination as it was at the time, but the feeling inside was the same.
I’ve slowly come to reclaim other parts of myself from the ‘opinion of the masses’ over the past few years. My thoughts on gay marriage for instance (100% yes, anything less is discrimination), it is definitely acceptable to wear your black and white polka dot ugg boots to your local supermarket and Jersey Shore and Made in Chelsea are absolutely the worst shows to ever hit television (never thought anything would beat Big Brother).
Still… it’s a struggle. I’m currently transitioning back to long hair and considering going blonde again. If I’m honest this is because I’m feeling old and having long, maybe blonde hair to swish around at Beautiful People clubs in Europe will make me feel more like I belong. Likely I’ll get over that scene at some point in the future and the hair will change again in an effort to redefine my message to the world about who I am.
If only I was as wise as my darling India… “I am not my hair… I am not my skin… I am not your expectations…”
Anyone else use their hair as an expression of inner turmoil or just me?