Tuesday, 21 September 2010

• Haircuts Aren't Always Routine: How They Can Affect You Post-Breakup or Post-Trauma

  
  For the longest time, I thought fashion was stupid. In fact, up until about last winter, I would have no problem traipsing about every day in my gray sweatshirt and Converse, not giving two shits about what I looked like. It was the most comfortable.
  
  Then, my world was thrown off-kilter when I broke up with my boyfriend of a year and a half. I spent a month in Sad Town USA. All my time was spent crying, watching re-runs of Friends, and trying to memorize 200 Art History slides.
  
  After weeks and weeks of tissue boxes and empty bowls crusted with mac and cheese residue, I decided that I needed to nut up and do something different with my life. So, I made a change:
  
  1) The Break-up Haircut
  Aww yeah. My hair had always been about boob-length (so that when it’s wet I could pretend I was a mermaid), so I decided to chop it all off and get like, a bob-type thing.
  
  Well, turns out, I thought it looked terrible. My hair is pretty curly, so I just looked like a cocker spaniel had sex with a PTA volunteer.
  
  Luckily, hats exist. And luckily, hair grows out. It’s hair.
  
  But even though I didn’t look too awesome, I felt different. I felt freer, and like more of a bad ass. It takes confidence to sport a short haircut as a girl, so in order to work it, I had to feel it. I acted like I loved my haircut, and people started to like it too—apparently, it actually looked good (or at least people were kind enough to lie). I started wearing fancier clothes (i.e. shirts without stains on them), and I got so many compliments that I started to feel great about myself. There’s no better way to get over a serious breakup than to regain some confidence and self-esteem.
  
  Turns out, looking great helps you feel great too.
  
  Alternatively, haircuts that happen after traumatic experiences can also be cries for help.
  
  2) The Post-Trauma Haircut
  
  One of my closest friends, Katie, is a fantastic person. She’s a nationally renowned slam poet, and she’s basically 4.0’ing college. It’s ridonkulous. Needless to say, she’s brilliant. Lately though, she’s been going through an extremely tough time. Not only has she been battling anorexia for years, but a couple of weeks ago, her brother killed himself. Needless to say, she’s buckling under the stress and grief of the whole situation.
  
  When she called me to tell me about her brother, I was in New York—3,000 miles away, where I couldn’t help her. I wanted so badly to hug her and rub her back, but all I could do was listen and comfort her with my words and inflection.
  
  When  I returned to Seattle last week, I noticed that she had gotten a pretty drastic haircut—her gorgeous, Pantene pro-v commercial-worthy hair had gone from boob-length to boy length. I told her it looked great, assuming that it was just her way of joining the hipster girls of the decade who seem to think that short hair is super avant garde.
  
  Then, a couple of days ago, I noticed that it looked even shorter. “Sally look, I cut my hair!” she announced, proudly.
  
  “Oh! Huh! Hey it looks great! Um, wow, did your hairdresser mean to keep your sideburns long and the rest of your hair short?”
  
  “Oh, I cut it myself!”
  
  Oh. Huh.
  I told her it looked great, not wanting to dampen her apparent high spirits, and she beamed.
  
  Later, when she was helping me decorate my room, I voiced my concern.
  
  “Hey darlin’, you know, I know you’ve been going through a really tough time lately, and I know that you cut your own hair. Now, it looks lovely, and I know you want to own your own beauty, which is a lovely concept, but to me, this seems like a cry for help. While it might not be as life-threatening as drinking or something, cutting your own hair is still a form of physical catharsis, and it worries me.”
  
  She began to cry. Clearly, I had hit the nail on the head. We talked for a couple of hours about what she had been going through, and I was so happy that I had spoken to her about it.
  
  Haircuts aren’t always just ways to get rid of split ends—they can indicate significant changes. Essentially, there are more ways that people can convey that they need you than just hurting themselves. To be clear, I'm in no way saying that all people who cut their own hair are depressed and trying to alleviate pain, but some people do, and it's something that you could look out for in your loved ones.
  
  Have any of you had similar experiences with haircuts?
  

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