I am emerging from my ugly phase.
Last trip to the hairdresser – just for a trim – my shampooer warned me. “You’re going to go through an ugly phase,” she matter-of-facted at me, before admonishing, “and don’t go cutting it off just because you’re in the ugly phase.”
Because, cutting it off means my hair has won our little battle.
The ugly was seductively convincing. Hair in the eyes. Messing with complexion. Head is too fat now to look good with long hair, anyhow.
The litany was in full-effect last week, and it became clear I would have to beat my hair into submission before it would end. So, I did something unprecedented (which cutting it off wouldn’t be, if we recall the Mohawk and other such endeavors). I walked into the bathroom, lined up my styling products, and took out Elise’s curling iron, hairdryer, and an array of brushes. An hour later, I emerged with feathered hair.
You have to understand that – long or short – hairstyling with anything other than a hand and some mousse is against my personal aesthetic. In high school I grew my hair into a pony-tail to avoid styling, and subsequently chopped it all off for the same reason. Every haircut I’ve had has been motivated by wanting to have to style less.
But, desperate times call for the most desperate of measures, and so style I did. My hair is perhaps a wee long for framing my face with feathers, so I wound up slightly more Farah Fawcett than John Travolta from Kotter. Before bed I carefully wrapped my work in a series of bandannas to preserve it for the night, and the next day I sported stylish (though slightly flattened) feathering at work. And, I didn’t feel ugly!
I have yet to reattain the epitome of my prettiness, but I have escaped the seductive “cut it off” allure of the uglies to inch ever closer to unspeakably desirable rock star look i’m cultivating.
Awww, I just had to tell you that I love your pretty picture. You are very pretty, indeed. As a compulsive hair cutter-offer, now reformed and growing my locks nice and long (until they tick me off and I end up getting a butch/pixie cut again), I urge you to stick it out. It will get better!
Thank you! That’s one of my all-time favorite pictures of me.
As for the topic of this post, I actually emerged unscathed on the other side of the ugly phase, experienced several adrenaline-filled weeks of great hair, and actually got to a point where it was long enough to get it trimmed into the shape i was aiming for. Unfortunately, i cannot provide photographic evidence of this, as WordPress has yet to acknowledge any phone posts.