This time last year, my head was shaved and according to others, I looked “scary.”
Sometimes I miss it the freedom the shaved head gave me. Sometimes I miss the look as a whole. I sometimes miss being considered unapproachable. It would be nice to get a break from people again.
A woman who I looked up to around this time last year encouraged me to dull down my appearance, to be less “out there.” She was the first person in my life to even assert that my looks kept people away. She “told it like it is,” which is an expression I hate. To tell it like it is would be to provide an objective view. But to make sweeping generalizations based on your own opinion is purely subjective. No one ever “tells it like it is.”
Initially, my refusal was adamant, but her pleas wore me down over the course of 3 months. I took out the piercings and grew out my hair and colored it some color existing in nature. I wasn’t any happier. I wasn’t any more “approachable.”
It was at that point in time that I put less stock in those that “told it like it is.”
Though I have a history of making bad decisions, they were still my decisions. They weren’t meant to appease anyone. I think the decision to dull down my appearance was one of the few times in my adult life that I reverted back to my adolescent self and changed my appearance to gain acceptance.
It’s Tuesday night and I’m listening to election coverage on NPR and my boyfriend is cleaning up the dinner I made. Sweet Korean barbeque pork. I don’t know why I’ve gone off on this tangent. Maybe it was because I was untangling my hair and I looked back on the shaved head fondly.
Who fucking knows.