It starts with a whim.
I suppose it just stems from an inability to care and a want to do something so relatively nuts that you, yourself, isn’t sure what the next step is. A piece of you realizes you have the tools and the means to do it, but you sense something is holding you back, a latent fear or the idea that it can all turn out so terribly wrong.
“It’s just hair” was something that went through my mind and to most, cutting your own hair isn’t that big of a deal. It’s a chore and nothing more. But, I typically care about my looks to a certain extent, definitely more than the person sitting next to me in a movie theater, so this was a plunge. The idea that was stopping me, was sight. I saw myself hesitating and saw myself thinking about how bad it’ll turn out.
I say it starts with a whim because it did. A piece of me wanted to do something drastic by myself, in a space that was all my own while I still had it. I guess this was the act that won above all else. So I did what anyone else would do in the event that sight got in the way.
I closed my eyes and pushed.
I opened my eyes and realized how easy it was and that, well, I can’t stop now lest I want to look like someone who should belong in prison. It’s funny though, you never realize how much hair you actually had on top of your head until it’s at your feet on the floor (there was a lot). But as I kept going, the more fun it got. It became a game for the obsessive compulsive, making sure that every bit is neat and every strand is cut. Granted, I’m not the best barber and will have to get fixed tomorrow morning, so I can’t do it all alone.
But, in some awkward attempt to pull out some life lesson from this impulsive, yet mundane act, I will say this: you never really know the outcome of something until you go for it. It all begins with a whim and you just have to let it overtake you and run with it.
Never in the subsequent twenty-two years of living did I ever think I would do this (let alone do this of my own volition and means) and yet I did. While I’m not the biggest fan of this particular result, I do think it’s becoming of me. As a matter of fact, I look pretty damn good. I’ve had worst cuts and hey, it’s just hair. And I’m not regretting one tiny bit of it. Why would I? It’s only temporary.
It’ll grow back.