Because

Me and my solar eclipse shadows.

A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.
― Coco Chanel

As the storm moved away.

(Note:  I did a thing yesterday and because I feel like writing, I’m here to tell the story.  I will need to start with some backstory, but I will try not so spend too much time on it. When I finish the writing part, maybe I’ll stick in a few photos to help move things along and for those of you who are here for the photography and not so much for the writing.)

A few months ago, maybe in December or January, I decided to let my hair grow.  It wasn’t that I wanted to grow it long and longer.  I was having trouble deciding what I wanted.  The only thing that came to mind was to shave it all off.  I didn’t have the nerve to do that so I avoided getting my hair cut for a while.  It grew, longer than I’ve let it grow since the first year of the pandemic when everything was shut down and I couldn’t get it cut.  Even after things opened, I still didn’t get it cut because I knew they weren’t requiring or wearing masks where I usually went to get my hair cut (and colored, when I was having fun with vibrant colors).  Strange times, as I’m sure you remember.

I listened to a podcast that featured Elizabeth Gilbert at some point during my hair growing process.  She had shaved her head.  Shaved it!  During the podcast, when asked about it, she talked about how freeing it was to be rid of her hair.  She didn’t have to worry about shampoo or blow drying or styling, or buying the products necessary to do those things.  She could just get up and go.  I nodded along as she talked, wondering what it might be like to feel that sort of freedom.  However, I was not ready to find out and my hair continued to grow.

Spring blossoms

Two weeks ago, I made an appointment to get my hair(s) cut.  I still did not know what I wanted to do.  I was tempted to tell T, the stylist, to get out the clippers and take it all off.  What I did instead was research.  I got on the internet, put in a search for “pixie cuts women over 60 with fine hair” and hit Go Fetch (so to speak).  Well.  If AI is running the search engines these days, AI is doing a pretty poor job of it.  I already knew that.  Eventually I did sort of get what I was looking for by just looking at images but even then, I had to wonder about the websites and search engines.  A lot of the haircuts that showed up were being modeled by women in their 20’s and 30’s, maybe 40’s at best.  That’s not what I wanted to see.  I wanted to see old ladies with short, short hair.

The beauty of the redbud

I’m done with “a woman of a certain age” or stupid ideas like “60 is the new 40.”  I am 65+ and considered elderly by our culture, by my doctor and the rest of the healthcare industry, and by any of those forms we have to fill out to get healthcare.  Let me be elderly or an elder.  Let me be an old crow (I happen to like crows and since crows are rather smart, I would assume that their elders are wiser as a result of ageing).  Or, as I’ve been joking around with a friend about, let me be an elderberry.  (Somehow I heard “elderberry” when someone was referring to “elderly” and I like it.  It covers the elder part and it makes me smile.)

Flowers on the blueberry (not elderberry) bush.

I didn’t want to see short haircuts on younger women.  What looks great on a 20-year-old (or 30-, 40-, and even 50-year old) is not going to look the same on a 60+ year old (or a 70-, 80-, or 90-year old).  I also did not want to see those short cuts on women with thick and/or curly hair.  My hair is baby fine, as they say.  Always has been, always will be (except when I damage it enough to make it frizzy and it appears thicker).

I found a few images of what I was looking for, printed them out, and then waited for my appointment with thoughts of just having T trim my hair back to what it was (a bob) and leave it at that.  When I arrived at the salon and sat in the chair, I pulled out the photo I’d printed of a woman with short, short hair and said, “How about that?”  T responded that it would look good on me and yes, she could do that with my hair.  And that, as they say, was that.  T started cutting and buzzing, cutting and buzzing, and I watched as long strands of hair fell to the floor.  T, like many who cut and style hair, is wise in the ways of these things.  She kept the chair turned so that I could not watch what was going on.  It would have been fascinating, but I’m not sure I would have appreciated that aspect at the time of the falling away of my hair.

Azalea in bloom.

There was a weird sense of liberation as I watched the hair leaving my head.  Still, I was a bit fearful of what I was going to look like because I knew T was cutting my hair shorter than it has ever been.  It’s one of those short pixie cuts with the sides and back undercut (buzzed with the clippers), leaving a little length on the top and in the front (bangs/fringe).  It isn’t Jamie Lee Curtis or Dame Judy Dench short, but it is approaching that realm.

Fiery.

It wasn’t until I washed and dried my hair today that I realized what the sense of liberation was about.  It wasn’t about getting rid of the hair.  It wasn’t even about the time and effort I’m going to save by not having to mess with my hair for ridiculous amounts of time every day.  What it was really about was this:  I have liberated myself from the fantasy of what I wanted my hair to be.  I was never, ever going to have long, luxurious locks of hair.  I was never going to have thick and/or curly hair.  My hair is not now nor was it ever any of those things no matter how many different haircuts, hair styles, or hair products I tried over my lifetime of pursuing an unrealistic goal.

I could write a long discourse on why many women do that to themselves (try to be or hope to be or wish to be what they are not).  Conditioning, culture, beauty standards, marketing, capitalism, etc., etc., ad nauseum.  But this essay is not about that so much as it is about how I did a big and scary (for me) thing yesterday.  First world privilege, yes.  I understand that.  I also understand that I had been attached to this fantasy for so long that I thought that was who I was.  All I had to do was find the right product or style or even food/vitamin, and my hair would miraculously be the shining glory that women’s hair is said to be (the Bible tells us so and there are Christian women out there writing blogs about how our hair is our authority, our covering, our power, and we should never ever cut it).

Pretty and feminine

Washing such short hair this morning was strange and different and just plain weird.  The little time it took to dry and style my short hair was amazing.  I took the time I would have spent fussing with my hair and used it to write this post.  There are many, many other ways I could have used that extra time.  There are many other ways I will likely use the extra time.  Time was the original excuse for wanting short hair.  I had no idea that what I really wanted to do was drop something that never really served me.  I see that in other areas of my life, too.  Right now it’s the fantasies that are falling away.

Ageing, they say, helps us shed what isn’t needed if we’re willing to go there.

Hidden goddesses (work in progress; acrylic paint on canvas).

I suppose that covers some of what is on my mind today.  Sorry, no photos of me or the hair.  Maybe someday.  I never really like putting my mug on the internet.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe I’ll figure that out eventually.

Thank you so much for stopping by and visiting with me today.  Let’s meet out at the Point for sunset.  It’s scheduled for 7:42 PM.  The weather is warm and breezy.  I’m not sure how cold the water is but you might even want to wade a bit or at least test the waters.

Please be safe, be well, and take a little time to just Be.  And to just be yourself.  Long hair, short hair, medium… whatever works for you.  ♥

Goodnight, Sun.

A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy:  3,321)  A little bit of becoming unstuck.  3,322)  Spring blossoms.  3,323)  Spring showers and storms, as long as the storms aren’t too scary or powerful.  3,324)  Yoga studies, and another look at The Brahmaviharas (which are Buddhist concepts but yoga has its version).  3,325)  Homemade sauerkraut.  We’ve been doing some fermenting around here.  Good stuff.

Slipping into darkness.