I had to cut off around 7 inches of my hair. Seven. Inches. I’m… devastated, to say the least.
This is the culmination of not knowing what products were good and bad about a year ago when I moved out, not getting a real haircut for basically 2 years because of covid, and recently styling my hair in a way that essentially destroyed whatever life there was left.
When I moved out, I didn’t know where to find the shampoo and conditioner I used at home (the brand is called “Kinky Curly”), and I was just not comfortable driving over 30 minutes in a new city to the only Whole Foods that has it. So, for a long time after moving out, I used whatever looked good during my shopping trips, which was often Pantene. I have since come to learn that Pantene is an awful brand of haircare products. The sulfates in their products in particular completely strip your hair of moisture. I didn’t know this at the time, but I guess that’s how we learn. Now I have some good stuff called “Carol’s Daughter”.
I don’t really have an excuse for not getting a haircut after the initial mandatory quarantine in early 2020. It’s important to get rid of old, dead hair and cut off split ends. I guess the quarantine period, and moving out, made me completely forget that getting haircuts needs to be a somewhat regular thing.
Since late December I started combing one side of my hair in front of my face, and that must have killed and thinned out a whole bunch of hair that was already dying or dead. I would do it right after getting out of the shower, too, and I didn’t know that hair is at its weakest when it’s wet. Again, I guess that’s how we learn.
I feel like a huge aspect of my identity is gone. If I were to quantify it, it would be, I don’t know, a third of my personality(?), or something.
It’s hard. The first two days were especially difficult, and every morning since cutting it I haven’t been able to look in the mirror. What I see is not the mental image of myself. It’s hard for me to comb it, because when I do my hair ends way, way before I expect it to. But it’s for the better. It will grow back thicker and healthier.
It certainly doesn’t help that my mother did not react well to my distress the day after she cut it (I went home for the weekend, and intended to have her cut it – I just didn’t anticipate how much it had to be). To her credit, she was understanding shortly after she cut it. But after a couple of hours, I think she started to take it personally that I didn’t like my hair right now. I told her I wasn’t going to like it. I told her I was going to cry, but she told me to “control my emotions”. I asked her if I was allowed to be sad about it. She said “I don’t know”.
Oh well. I’m back home now. I’m still really sad, but it will get better. And, I don’t think it looks bad right now, but it’s just not me.
I also got highlights, but no pictures yet. Still kind of mourning, you know?