LESSON Twelve: Cut Off ALL Your Hair, at Least Once in Your Life

“OK, I’ll Admit It, I Had a Britney Moment!”

Click Here for the Video Lesson

    Hey what I can I say, I, too had a ‘Britney’ moment years ago, when my son was 4 or 5 years old and I was still in college. My shining moment came when one day I was tired of hearing that voice inside my head telling me to cut off all my hair bleached-blond hair. No for real, for about a month, I kept hearing this command in my head replay like it was a broken record. The motivator was that I had gotten out of a bad marriage and while I was married I let my ex-husband’s sister, who was a hairdresser dye all of my hair blond.

   Naturally, I’m a dish-water blond with more shades of brown than blond floating around on top of my head. So, as my roots and natural color were starting to grow out, I had to make a decision, dye my roots again, dye all of my hair or just cut the shit off. For weeks, I kept hearing that little voice inside my head telling me to cut off my hair. I listened to her and choose something drastic and cut all of my hair off, down to my natural color, which left about a half an inch of hair left on my head. I took my Dad’s electric hair cutter to my head and instantly found relief when I was all done.

   I found out an amazing secret that men all over the world had been keeping from us women and that is that when you have really-short hair and you go outside on a windy day, the wind tickles your scalp. It felt wonderful and is such a cool sensation!

   When my parents and my son got back home, they discovered a new me, with a new dew. Bless his heart, Nick said that I “looked like uncle Ryan!” I bet I sure did!

   I figure that I needed to do that in order to get some closure emotionally and I’m sure it helped but man did I get grief about my short hair for the next few months. When I went to my first day of my new college classes, I made sure to wear tight, girly clothes, earrings and makeup. One of my teachers commented to me a few weeks later that she didn’t know right away if I was a guy or a girl. My efforts were in vain and my androgynous look was starting to wear on me already.

   Subconsciously, I’m sure that I cut off all of my hair so that I won’t get attention from men. I’ve learned that I don’t want to attract men’s attention to me or be sexually attractive because I was just trying to focus on myself and heal. Boy let me tell you, the looks that I got from older men around campus were chilling….if looks could kill, I’d already be dead!


   If felt like with all of the men that I encountered when I first cut my hair and for the next year and a half that it took to grow out, that they’d look at me in disgust when I’d walk by. The truth was that I didn’t want ANY attention from men and especially NOT in a sexual way. This is how I dealt with my divorce to my second husband and the ending of our very tumultuous, unhealthy relationship. I was single, as a dollar bill and I needed a break and I just had to test society’s rules.

   I hate that women in general are looked at first by men for their looks as if this is the value of a woman’s worth. It feels like too much pressure and that men in our society fixate on this way of thinking, it’s ingrained in most men and even seen in boys. What’s up with that and why is our culture so messed up about this?

   I had to rebel and cutting off most of my hair was my means of therapy and standing up for women. We should be able to have short hair and not feel like a boy or get nasty looks from men because we aren’t worried about getting their attention by the way we look. I can’t control others but I can control me and this experiment was uber helpful.

   I get why women do this and I found it to be an amazing learning experience. I’ve gotten more selective when faced with a similar situation and in the past, have gone as far as getting a pixie cut. Talk about low-maintenance and feeling carefree. I just wish I had more boobs so I could pull off this look and feel confident, but I never did and spent months with a crippled self-esteem. Maybe someday, I’ll completely stop caring what people think of me, my fingers are crossed :o)