Garibaldi.
Well, it finally happened—I shaved my head. I’ve wanted to do it for YEARS, and after one of the most bittersweet years of my life, I decided it was finally time. Here’s why I finally pulled the clipper, if you will.
I wanted to reclaim myself. My ex-husband wouldn’t allow me to do it. He said I’d feel ugly and regret it immediately. I’m currently three days out, and this is the most comfortable I’ve felt in a long while. There’s something powerful about finally doing something I was told I couldn’t do and discovering that the consequences are actually pretty fucking pleasant. This feels like a reclamation of myself that no one can control or take away.
Hair holds memories, and I’m ready for new ones. Since becoming sober and more stable, I’ve had to cut out a lot of people I’ve outgrown. Anybody who last saw me during the “before bald” era has no idea who I am now. That change started long before the clippers came out, but now I can actually see it. I want the people in my life to make an effort to be present, and I’m done carrying connections by myself. Only the pure of heart get to be a part of this hair’s memories. This hair has never been touched by my ex or any of my fair-weather friends, and that matters to me.
I want to honor my best friend. Morgan died of breast cancer almost five years ago now. Having my boyfriend help me shave my head had me shaking halfway through. I thought about the fear she went through when she had to surrender part of her identity. She wouldn’t let me cut mine in solidarity either time she lost her hair to chemo. She valued hair a lot and always wanted me to grow mine out. Even so, this makes me feel closer to her, and doing it during Breast Cancer Awareness Month feels especially meaningful.
I want to dunk on the patriarchy. Society places a disgusting amount of value on women’s hair. Long hair typically equals enhanced femininity, while short hair gets labeled too matronly or too masculine. Then come the products constantly being peddled for growth, frizz control, added shine, curl management, heat protection—and ENOUGH. I don’t want to buy fifteen products just to feel confident enough to leave the house. This is going to save me so much fucking money, lol. My boyfriend thinks the cut makes me look powerful, and honestly, I’d rather feel like a bad bitch than worry about whether I’m acceptable enough for the male gaze. Long hair also makes it easier to get caught during an assault or zombie apocalypse, and I’m not about that, chief.
There’s nowhere to hide. Going bald is a lot of women’s number one fear, and I wanted to prove to myself that being without hair isn’t the end of the world. Hair is a safety blanket for a lot of people, as well as a major form of expression. Without mine, every wrinkle and acne scar feels like it’s on full display. You can tell how much I raise my eyebrows to make my hooded eyes less prominent. Luckily, I have a nicely shaped head, lol, but I’m still getting used to seeing myself this plainly. I’m being forced to be comfortable with exactly who I am.
My hair needed a fresh start, too. One of my good friends pointed out that I’ve had every hair color under the sun; the only thing I’d NEVER done was shave my entire head. Granted, I HAVE had a full undercut in the back and on the sides, like Sokka from The Last Airbender. Last Christmas, I bleached the front and dyed it pink, then blue—which never truly fades away. Between the built-up color and the banding where my roots had grown out, I was ready to start over. I haven’t seen my natural hair color in full since I was 14. I have greys coming in, and I love them. I’m excited to see them as it grows back. Plus, if I want to try anything super crazy, I can dye it and shave it down again if I don’t like it.
I’m tired of being physically annoyed by my hair. I didn’t realize how much of my day I spent fussing with it until it was gone. It felt greasy, my bangs wouldn’t sit right, my hair tie gave me a headache, or I’d accidentally tug on it while lying down. I also sweat a lot in my sleep, and my hair acted as insulation. Stringy, wet tendrils would suffocate me in the night. My skin gets HORRID around my moon cycle, so I’m curious whether keeping sweaty hair off my face will help at all. Mostly, though, it’s a relief to stop thinking about my hair every five minutes. Having a buzz cut is a form of body neutrality I could never have dreamed of.
I want to rub the coconut. I loved petting my undercut when it was freshly shaven. The texture is fantastic and nice to stim on, lol. I’ve also joked that I’m going as my boyfriend for Halloween because he is ALSO bald, and we’re twinning right now. I could put a literal fruit sticker on my head and go as a kiwi, and I would consider that whimsy maxing. I’m still a cutie-patootie regardless of whether or not I have hair.
I have plenty of time to grow it out before any major events, but right now, I’m enjoying it exactly as it is. If you’ve ever wanted to try it, I highly recommend it. I spent years wanting to know what this would feel like.
Turns out, it feels like relief.
