Short Hairstyles

Don’t you ever cut your hair short. You would look so ugly and disgusting. – My Mom

As I looked in the mirror tears running down my face. I couldn’t see me, I wasn’t even sure who I was. 

I was told this every time we went to get my hair trimmed. I would beg to cut my hair. I wasn’t allowed to choose my hair styles, my clothes, my friends, my hobbies, and even my own favorite foods. Everything was chosen for me like as if it was destiny. 

I spent a lot of my childhood hating myself and wanting to be more than what I seemed to have started to become. I couldn’t look in the mirror because the girl I saw wasn’t the girl I truly was on the inside. 

My mother stripped away my identity, my very personality. Years of being told how to be and what to do ripped at my soul. I saw a girl who wasn’t real. It was what someone wanted me to be rather than what I needed to be. 

I remember looking in the mirror one night while drunk and high at 12 years saying to myself…something has to change. I have to be better. I understood that I had a responsibility and an obligation to myself. Some very painful things followed that night. 

I grew from these events. I learned that the life I have is only mine. That I had to make decisions for me. That no matter what I had to choose me over all other things. I had an obligation to respect myself and treat myself the way my family should have treated me. 

I cut my hair at 17 years old and have never gone back. Because I feel like me. I feel beautiful even with no hair because I understand that beauty is deeper then physical. I learned the most valuable lesson that my mother could not understand… that if I’m not happy with myself now that I won’t be happy with myself if something physical changes.

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