There is something so gratifying about cutting hair…about cutting your own hair. Not having someone else try and figure out your idea, but cutting it yourself. Picking up the shiny silver shears, or in my case, sharp, straight, powerful yet dainty razor (don’t worry, I really have a license to do this!), and slicing away.
The sound of cutting hair…it’s similar to cutting fabric or tearing paper. It’s like slowly peeling apart two pieces of velcro. It’s like the sound if a zipper zipping. It is like all of these sounds complied into one harmonious sound. And it is scrumptious! Hair, is after all, a fabric that we weave and crease and iron and twirl. It is the most amazing thing, yet on a day to day basis can be the most terrible thing! But, to cut it! Ah, my right brain was and is so happy with me. To be able to see and feel and create a shape from this collection of thousands of small threads. To know how much weight I want here, and how textured I want here…you can’t describe that to a hairdresser. Most hairdressers, I should say. There is amazing talent out there, folks.
Whenever I close myself up in the bathroom and fill up the sink with months and months of hair, I feel this wave of complete satisfaction. Like I am back to my old self again. The best of times I had, creatively speaking, I wore short funky, bold, confident hair. The times when I was struggling, learning something new, or straight up bored with myself, I let it go and grow into some shapeless mop. People hide behind their hair. It’s true…you know you do it too. When my hair starts-a-growing, It’s like vines and greens in the Amazon rain forest. I need a machete to get through it… to let my eyes show through, to let the shape shine through, to let me show and shine through like the confident and creative me I know I can be.
I am now shining!