Some time ago I had a convo with a fellow fattie about hair being the “safe zone” for many fat women. It was an eye-opening moment when I realised that this is a real thing! For outsiders, it’s a safe compliment to say “you’re hair looks great” because hair isn’t fat, thus it’s not controversial. For fatties, it’s not always easy to feel confident in our fat bodies and plus sized clothes but we can get a blow dry and instantly feel good about our luscious locks and in turn, ourselves.
It got me thinking about the effort I have put into my hair as a fat female and whether this is a good or bad thing. I came to the hedonistic conclusion that anything that gives anyone more confidence, whether that confidences comes from within or without, can’t be a bad thing.
When I was a kid I had quite long hair. In my later teenage years and early 20’s I kept it shorter and well manicured, usually in a long, graduated bob (for those of you who know the lingo thanks to hours of Pinterest-ing research). One of the great mysteries of my life is how I managed $150+ hair cuts every 6 weeks on minimum wage. Apparently you can’t put a price on confidence.
When I met my girlfriend (about 4 years ago), she made a comment about liking me with long hair and so perhaps a little sub-consciously at first (but yes, okayyy, I admit it, more consciously later on) I started growing my hair.
Once I started growing it out, it was nice to put thoughts of hair and its constant maintenance out of my mind. It was really nice to have that money to spend elsewhere (I suspect most of it went on food…or make up. Whoops!). After a while it became a novelty to have longer and longer hair. It got really long.
But it also got really damn boring.
Through my adult life, my hair had become a big part of my identity. I don’t want to use too many buzz words here so basically, I consider myself an artistic person and I liked to wear my creativity on my head.
The novelty of people saying how long it was started wearing off and I started to feel dull AF. So, time for a change.
I went to my local no-frills salon, not wanting to revisit the days of $150 hair cuts just yet, and told the adorable gay wielding the scissors to “go for it!” I was really happy with the initial results.
As you can see, feeling fierce and fine I was really pleased to have the chop complete!
Less than a week later I felt like I hadn’t been brave enough. I decided it was time to mix up the colour. I had been eyeing off a colour stripper for a while. Having never tried it before, I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be…it was a little shocking!
The hair was BLONDE. The last time I was blonde was in 1993! I was so shocked that I put on make-up but no clothes. Oversight.
I decided after this that the hair was still very much a work in progress. I went back to the hairdresser. The Gay was too kind about the colour, saying how great it looked on me but I already knew it wasn’t going to last (I hate it!). I said I was ready to have more hair off which he was equally positive about. All that enthusiasm – how doooo they do it?
The result was closer to what I was feeling was the real me if I was a haircut.
I’ll keep your posted on the ongoing transformations 😉