Freedom Lies in Being Bold (or why I chopped off my hair)

Yesterday I cut off all my hair. Not personally. I went to a salon, of course, to see a professional. And not a buzz cut. But seriously short. Like between a bob and a pixie cut. The front still barely covers my ears. But the back is maybe an inch long. And before I did it, my hair was long. Like past my chest, took many years of avoiding haircuts to get it that way, long.

I was sitting in the chair, staring at her through the mirror as she chopped two foot long ponytails off my head, when the stylist asked, "So what made you decide to cut off all this hair?" When I paused to come up with an answer I could actually word, she responded in fear, "Oh no, you didn't break up with a boyfriend, did you? I totally shouldn't have asked." No, no. Not EVEN close.

I explained that I needed to do something bold, just for me. But I didn't really grasp the fullness of that truth until this morning.

It was really just for me. Not for a boy. Not to impress. Not to look good to others. Because let's face it, as much as any girl on the planet can pull off short hair, and as much as others will immediately respond that the cut looks super cute, guys definitely prefer longer hair. People in general seem to respond to even the most gorgeous celebrities with pixie cuts with something like: "That's cute, she can totally rock it, but she looked prettier with long hair."

Long hair just seems more feminine. More predictable. Less wild and shocking. Less bold. Women with short hair seem to walk more confidently. And I won't go on a feminist rant (though trust me, I am dying to do so), but I think the world is intimidated by women who challenge the norm, act boldly, and exude confidence through losing their long locks.

So, I did it for me. Just for me. As a people pleaser (by the way, I've become a much bigger fan of the term people pleaser than pushover, as it has a little less weak and pathetic connotation), I spend so much of my time worrying about what others think, how they feel, and what they want me to do. It's exhausting. I'm working on it, but I often feel imprisoned by the people pleaser voice in my head. Obviously cutting my hair couldn't heal me of the holes I still try to fill with (slightly more healthy than past fillers, but still totally inadequate) external validation. But put simply, I needed to do one thing that was completely and totally my decision. For my happiness. Regardless of what anyone else might think about it.

But that's just the first part. I also needed to do something bold. Sure there's a level of excitement and a certain high that comes form acts of boldness. But more than needing the adrenaline rush that comes from it, I needed to know I was simply capable of boldness.

I needed a tangible reminder that I am and can be bold. That I have it in me to take risks, go on adventures, jump leaps of faith, and chase after big dreams. Not necessarily as day one of some life-changing Eat, Pray, Love journey. But just as a reminder to myself. Proof to myself that I am, can, and will be BOLD.

Sometimes, no matter how much we search our hearts, we can't come to certain conclusions about ourselves. We often have already painted a self-portrait in our heads that encouragements from others and ourselves just can't erase or paint over. We can dream about someday being different, becoming somebody else, making these big changes, and chasing after these big dreams. But saying, thinking, and writing the words can only go so far sometimes.

So we may need something tangible to hold onto. I think this is why for years I experimented with different hair colors in high school. And then upon discovering tattoos, I couldn't stop. I'm up to 4 now. Not a huge number, but running out of strategically classy locations to be sure. A lot of people look at me and my life choices and personality and say I'm bold. That I'm a risk taker. Or that they admire my confidence.

But I look at me and see someone who overanalyzes every tiny piece of every thought, action, and circumstance. Who overthinks and overplans. Who would rather keep others happy than do something that makes me happy. They may see something else. But I see a triple threat: planner, pushover, people-pleaser. That's the self portrait I've painted in my head.

So dying my hair was my first way of saying "screw you"to the people in my life who tried to control me (or who I let control me regardless of their intentions). In high school it was my tangible assertion of my independence and agency. I needed a physical reminder for myself that I was the only one in charge of my life.

And then the tattoos were a way of literally writing my passions on my heart (or body). You know, in case I forgot that I cared about the world and the people in it, needed to always love and walk humbly, was stronger than my circumstances, and had no reason to fear losing myself in love again. Just in case I ever forgot, they were sketched into my skin. But again, I just needed a tangible reminder. Sure, if people ask me what they mean, I love to share with them. But all four tattoos were for me. Tangible reminders of who I am and what I believe in.

But this time, I needed a tangible reminder that I am capable of boldness. That people pleasing doesn't define me. That I am in complete control of my life and can confidently strut, yes strut not walk, in the direction of my dreams, straight toward my destiny, regardless of how others feel about it.

Sound a bit harsh? Hate to break it to you, but tough love is just about the only way to help a pushover.

So that's why I cut all my hair off. Just for me. As a tangible reminder to myself that I am in fact bold.

And you know what? Robert Frost is an absolute genius...

"Freedom lies in being bold."

Today, I feel free. Free form the expectations and desires of others. And free from that awful self-portrait I had painted in my head of an overanalyzing, people-pleasing, pushover.

Today...I am BOLD.


Today...I am ME.