Content Warnings: Depression, Body dysmorphia, Self-deprecation, Social ostracization
Dear stranger,
My hair is very long. Or rather, it’s grown long because I don’t want to bother going to a hair salon, and I don’t trust my mom’s hair styling skills after she keeps showing me those TikToks of people clear-cutting their bundled up hair and insisting it really is just that easy. When I was little I suppose I had an affinity for it, thinking all the long haired characters were so cool—I wanted to be just like them. Now, though, I’m quite in tune with the annoyances of long hair, from pulling on your hair when you sleep to the massive amounts of conditioner it takes. Not that anyone around me seems to think that way.
I’ve been consistently plagued by errant “harmless” comments of “aren’t you hot? You can borrow my hair tie”. I hate exposing my round face, and it’s not that hot to me, but it seems like I’ll have to because everyone’s making such a fuss about it. Yes, I look so good in braids, don’t I? “Isn’t it annoying when you eat?” “The way you pull your hair back makes me cringe.” I’ve been doing this unconsciously, but if it is annoying, shouldn’t it only be a “me” problem? How is this causing anyone else grievous harm?
I’ve seen the apparent truth of the matter so many times. My choices are always inherently wrong. If someone got so frustrated with my hair that they took it upon themselves to shear off my bangs, well, that was my fault for not properly handling my long hair. That white bouquet I wanted is tacky, get these potted yellow flowers instead. That blouse is ugly, put it back. So maybe at some point I decided not to make any choices at all. If it was going to be inevitably wrong anyway, then it was senseless to open myself up and expose my stupidity to everyone. Whatever happens tomorrow, isn’t on me. That’s all that matters. It’s not my fault, as I stand in place, waiting for something to happen. For someone to push me to something I might not like, but is probably more correct than what I would have chosen.
If I cede all control to someone else, no one can tell me I’m wrong anymore.
