@12 months ago with 20 notes
#bald girl #bald chick #no hair #super happy #omg #best decision ever #don't take shit #no hair dont care
I shaved my head!
I was reading for philosophy, and it kept getting in my face and I kept being infuriated and then I was like man, I don’t have to put up with this shit. So I decided I wasn’t going to.
My hair was the first thing about myself that I learned to hate. Before I was fat, before my thighs were a weird shape, before I had pre-boobs but refused to wear a bra because it made being a girl too real (but was still horrified by the photos showing my breast buds under my shirt), before all of that mess, I had frizzy red hair. The kind that would never lie flat and always involved a painful fight with my mother when getting ready for school in the morning, the kind that never survived the playground without tripling in volume (and usually catching a few leaves).
Being the first thing I hated, it was the first thing I conquered. In middle school I’d spend hours in front of the mirror in my bedroom, perfecting the art of the flat iron while listening to the entirety of “Warning” on repeat (Green Day’s best album — duh). I might not be able to stop my body from being too round in weird places, but I could learn to make my hair behave. I could even learn to love and embrace the redhead stereotypes (I do have some strong opinions after all… and I do like having sex…?), even though I knew they were sexist as fuck.
In doing so, I created a kind of safety net for myself.
When I wear a cardigan with a sleeveless dress, it’s not because I’m cold (I’m never cold) or because I think it adds to the outfit in some way. It’s because I’m pissed at the way my arms look. They’re chubby and super muscular from swimming, and take up more space than popular ideal allows them. So I put on a cardigan, and soften their appearance with a gentle, pleasing knit fabric.
My hair turned into a cardigan for my ENTIRE FUCKING BODY.
It needed to go.