chapter 20: looking for change, finding a haircut
exploring the unrealistic expectations of physical changes vis a vis my haircut procrastination
My favorite way to start class in elementary school was when the teacher noticed someone’s haircut.
Someone would come in transformed, with bangs or a buzzcut or some radical chop, and the teacher would ask, “Did you get a haircut? It looks good!”
Suddenly, the whole class’ attention would be on the lucky kid, looking over at them with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for an extreme makeover show. The small change seemed to alter the energy for the rest of the day. With the approval of the class, whoever it was seemed brighter; unburdened. And I suppose they were, in a way: they had just shed inches of dead weight from their head.
Personally, like any well-adjusted 26 year old, I have a fear of the hair dresser. My hair, a straight, medium thick morass of golden brown, couldn’t be easier to work with. I’m the type of person who walks into a salon and leaves with elaborate curls that the stylist put in “just for fun”. Nothing bad has ever happened to me at a salon, either. Save for one time in 1st grade when the results were too short to tie up in a ponytail for gym class, I haven’t suffered any major trauma from a pair of scissors. Honestly, the prospect of being trapped in a chair just makes me too expectant, filled with giddy anxiety over the possible outcomes. Will I emerge from the appointment a new woman? Does the stylist know just the right way to emphasize my eyes while downplaying my round face with a curtain bang? Could a fresh trim and a blowout be the solution to self love?
See? I’m already getting ahead of myself.
While these unrealistic expectations are clearly rooted in those days from my childhood, I can’t help but notice our culture’s perpetual fascination with external changes. Because while I agree with the statement “when you look good, you feel good”, we’ve clearly overestimated the power of physical appearance (ignoring things like pretty privilege, fatphobia, and racism - that’s a convo for another day).
Take the glow up. Sit yourself in front of the internet for an hour, and you’ll find some kind of glow up video or story. Whether it’s weightloss, a “getting my life together” video, or even a GRWM (Get Ready With Me, for the uninitiated), this kind of content is all over. And it’s no surprise: the little me who loved seeing people come to school with fresh haircuts or bronzed skin from spring break still delights in a good before and after. Humans love a shiny object, and there’s nothing better than seeing it get polished for yourself.
This evangelizing of physical glow ups, besides being incredibly toxic for a young, self-loathing audience, sends the wrong idea about the power of appearance. While it’s true that the way you look can change peoples’ perspectives on you, it does little to change how you feel about yourself. You can put on a full face of makeup, lose 20lbs, get a new wardrobe, or even a boob job, but it won’t make you as happy as all of this glow up content seems to imply. Visible abs will never make up for your non-existent sense of purpose, and a haircut won’t make you see yourself in a kinder light. As much as we want it to be, physical changes aren’t the answer to feelings of inadequacy.
Once you start believing that your problems are just a physical improvement away, it’s all-consuming. The hyperfixation on glowing up can ruin your life. I think this video shows it best: the hopeful beginnings and the high of success to the dark side, when everything crumbles around you because you’ve based your self-worth on your appearance - something impossible to truly control.
And so I put it off: the dreaded haircut. The last thing I needed were makeover fantasies haunting me from the time I scheduled the appointment to the moment the stylist did the big reveal (they always turn me around at the end - does that happen to everyone?). My life wasn’t going to change from an hour in the chair. I know this, and yet some small part of me still hopes that a haircut will become a life-altering makeover. The expectations, however fantastical, were too much.
But finally, disheartened by my split ends and overgrown curtain bangs, I made the appointment.
At the end, she spun me around after dutifully curling the front of my hair. I looked the same.
“Looks great,” I told her with a smile.
Thought provoking perspective! I have to agree with you. Your writing is very good!!!