Speaking of Scars

Today I'd to write a blog to introduce my plunge into the world of Harry Potter fanfiction!!

*snicker* yeah right. Sorry, just a little joke. I have no intention of ever writing Harry Potter fanfiction.

Today my post is actually about wigs. How does this have anything to do with Harry Potter? Please allow me to explain. When I was growing up I had only two real haircuts - long with bangs and long without bangs. Sometimes I had a layered cut and sometimes it was blunted, but I always had hair long enough to put in a pony tail, even at it's shortest. So, I decided that there was a whole other world of haircuts that I knew nothing about, so I went to the hair salon and got all my hair chopped off. Really, I must have lost 20 cm of hair. You could have made a wig with what was left on the floor (I know ... I should have donated it to cancer patients - next time). And the effect was certainly different than what I'd had before, but I was unsatisfied, so I went back to the salon and got it cut again - this time more seriously, so that I had really short hair - my bangs were only about 4 cm long and that was the longest hair I had. While I was getting it cut, I wasn't wearing my glasses - and I'm pretty blind without them. I wasn't sure if what I saw in the mirror while the stylist was cutting was what was really happening. But, I had this sneaking suspicion that I was starting to look like a teenager boy and not just any teenage boy, but Daniel Radcliffe. But, I steadied my nerves and waited for the hairdresser to finish. I kept telling myself that once I put on my glasses, it wouldn't be anything like what I thought, so I just had to relax. So, she finished and I reached for my glasses and put them on.

IT WAS 200 TIMES WORSE THAN I EXPECTED

I looked like him. There was no dodging the fact and once I put on my glasses - I really looked like him. The only thing that stopped me from looking 100% like a Harry Potter wannabe was the fact that dispite my previous efforts to the contrary, I have an extremely feminine figure. I couldn't pass for a guy in 200 years. However, during this time period in my life, I was never hit on by fewer guys. My husband saw me and the only compliment he could come up with to say was that at least my head was a cute shape. Which, if you knew him - you'd know that is a sign that he was totally knocked on his ass. He's far more articulate than that. He can't help it. Like most guys he prefers long hair to short, so even though he didn't make a big deal of this wretched haircut of mine, it was clear that he was a little disappointed.

Well, I just dealt with it. I felt no regret over this haircut because I wanted to have the experience of short hair, so I felt no remorse - nothing. I didn't have to blowdry my hair anymore, and no matter where I was or what I was doing, my hair didn't get in my face. There were lots of bonuses. It was very practical, so I couldn't be too upset. The only thing I really lost was a good percentage of my personal beauty. I'm the sort of person who believes that your body is the vehicle of your dreams, so it doesn't matter what it looks like as long as you can function and do the things you want to. This was the first time this belief of mine was actually challenged, and I feel like I came through it pretty well. I didn't get up and look at myself in the mirror and think how bad I looked, I just got on with things and refused to be downhearted.

Then I got another haircut. This one was much worse. I couldn't stop crying. Even though the stylist hadn't botched my hair the first time - they murdered it the second time. Truth be told, I haven't had a haircut since then. But, I refused to take the bus home from the mall and instead walked - not a short walk - two buses normally. I cried the whole way. (just as a little side quest, during this walk I had to go to the bus station and buy tickets for the little holiday I was taking, so I went there bawling my eyes out and the guy standing behind the counter was like 'one way ticket?' and I'm like - he thinks I've been through this terrible emotional trial and that I'm running away from the city ... but the truth is that I've only had a bad haircut *whaaa!!!*) So, this second haircut was like I was a little sheep and I'd been taken to the shearers by a maniac. I felt like this was different than having short hair - I'd been mutilated.

So, I was in the mall walking around with my husband feeling like I should hide my head in the dirt, so that no one would have to see me when we passed a wig shop. I had always wanted to try wigs, but always before my hair was too long to cram all of it under a wig, so I never had. But now ... that problem was totally gone. And I had a blast trying on all the different wigs, when I tried one that made my husband straighten his back and take an interest. I thought it was a little silly to spend that much money on something so useless, but he bought it for me without hesitation. The next day I wore it to work. (I have to explain that my wig is way prettier than my hair normally, no matter how much effort I put into it. My wig looks perfect and stays perfect the whole time I wear it and it only takes a second to put on. I also used to combine my bangs with the bangs of the wig so that I had a natural hairline). I only wore it to work once because it was too distracting. Apparently, my husband wasn't the only one who thought it was a huge improvement.

I don't know if there's a moral to this story, but I've decided not to cut my hair short again until I'm too old to be mistaken for a highschool boy. Do I still wear the wig? No. It's still in good shape and everything, but my hair is really long now and thick and there's no room for it under that wig. But, I wore it to church and for pics and things and it helped me feel pretty when I looked like a butchered animal, so I would recommend that everyone get one.