As for me, I've never shaved my legs. My eyebrows are still complete in their glory. I don't wear much make-up, and my favorite pair of pants are grape-print leggings. Oh, and I got a haircut this week:
A super futuristic, bright red haircut. A haircut from the year 3000, when the human race is so overpopulated that everyone is gay; when high heels are talked about like corsets; when people communicate thoughts and memories through blinking and entering a mind cloud; when computers are no longer separate entities but embedded into our bodies, such that my every touch and sound can be morphed into whatever form I please. And I like it here. 3000 is a good year, especially for Scandinavian wines and long-haired cogs (cat-dog hybrids). I think I'll hang out here for awhile.
But the point is this. Wearing this hair in a studio and at a photo shoot is quite different than wearing it at the gym, or the mall, or the coffee shop. And it's a lot more trying than I thought. I've cut off my hair before. But here, in Wroclaw, this is the first time I've ever felt self-conscious about it. It took all my willpower not to shout or cry in the middle of the market square this afternoon.
So here's what I have to say to the jerks on the tram and the old ladies selecting tomatoes while really gossiping about my head. It's my head. It's my body. And I'll do whatever I damn well please with it. If you don't like it, tough shit.
And guess what else? By demanding the same limited standards of performance and appearance from your fellow citizens, you are limiting yourself, putting yourself in a tiny hole that confines your ability to explore the full diversity of what the human mind can express and create. You are participating in a race that you'll never win, and that will leave you feeling empty and unfulfilled and unattractive. Because your outrage is really due to the fact that I'm cheating. I'm not playing the game. You can't rank me beside the other girls and see where I line up, because I'm not trying to fit that mold. And I think you would have a lot more fun in life if you stopped trying to figure out where you stand in the pack too. You don't have to be a humanoid alien from the year 3000. You could be from the year 1700. Or 300. Or 1979. Or another dimension altogether, where years don't exist. You could be a new color, a new species, a new gender, a new artform, a new movement, a new sound. Imagine how much more dynamic our world would be. So stop acting jealous or offended and find your own image, something that no one can touch because it's so above and beyond what they know. Expand their minds. Expand your mind. Turn off the TV. Close the magazine. Do something radical that pushes you out of your comfort zone. Challenge yourself. Challenge your insecurities. Challenge your limitations.
When I first chopped off all my hair, girls kept calling me "brave." Again and again, I would hear them say "I wish I could do that; it's so brave." Well, guess what? You can! You only need to follow these three simple steps: Step 1. make a ponytail. Step 2. open scissors. Step 3. Close scissors over ponytail. Voila! It's not Julia Child's Coq au Vin. Should you chop off all your hair? If you want to, yes. If not, no. But don't wistfully stare at me and tell me you wish you could do that too, like it's beyond your capability. Do it. Or not. As long as it's your desire, your personal choice, and not your insecurities making the choice for you. High school is over, thank goodness. The popular girls won't spray whip cream into your locker or spill coffee all over your white dress. The only mean girl you have to be afraid of now is the one in front of you in the bathroom mirror. Maybe it's time to show her a lesson.
