The Trials and Tribulations of a Pixie Haircut
It’s crazy how we see a celebrity with a bomb haircut and automatically think…yes, that is what I want. Trouble is, most often it doesn’t translate into our own hair, and our hairstylists are so Edward-Scissor-Hands-eager to chop off all our strands that you can kiss any hope of a second-guess goodbye. My hair evolution has been somewhat static all my life; it only took two big milestones for radical change. But isn’t that how it always goes?
Long, thick unruly hair was the norm for me from when I was little, and well into my adulthood. Just like Anja, I lusted for straight strands, maybe for different reasons, but that long slick style was what I idolized. Too bad it took me hours to achieve that with long hair, so for a long time I left that dream on the back burner because I am, above all else, LAZY.
Fast forward to my wedding: I had hair that fell just shy of my buttocks that took me about two hours to straighten. Just like many girls, my wedding updo involved long locks. And no joke, about a week after we returned from our honeymoon, I made an appointment to chop it all off. I started the pansy way with a lob, and each time I gained courage to go shorter and shorter. Making my way to a rather short bob, I tried to keep the length for a while. Honestly, I could say I adored that bob: easy to deal with, cool and breezy (my original hair length was a natural scarf), and just plain cute… though the longing for braids had overcome my new found love for this short do.
Making it past the awkward right-above-the-shoulders stage – where your hair does that flip (which I despise) – I finally made the call for a much needed trim. This was around the time that Zoe Kravitz had taken the plunge and chopped it all off. Her androgynous cut looked stunning on her – I mean that bone structure that was evermore accentuated with that cut. Not to mention that bleach blonde tone she chose. In the back of my head, I wanted to take this haircut for a test drive. But was I ready?
Consultations were in order. Firstly, I asked my husband what he thought, but with no clear angle that I was actually going to do it. His lack of excitement in his answer should have been a cue for me, but unfortunately I can be rather stubborn so when I have something in my head, there is no detouring. My second lifeline was my hairstylist sister. Her comment was, “if anyone could pull it off, it would be you.” That boosted my confidence meter, even though she said that the platinum blonde might not work on me. One last word of advice from Tamu, who said I should do both cut it and bleach it, left me nearly convinced it was time for the chop.
Sitting in the stylist’s chair tasked with the same question, he obviously decided on cutting, because as I said before, they just love to cut. When it was all said and done, to say I was in shock was an understatement, but I could not pull myself together to realize if it was good or bad shock. I walked out of there light (literally and emotionally) quickly sending a selfie to my husband. Response: “What did you do? You didn’t tell me you were doing that.” I guess I knew what his answer would have been if I consulted before cutting. Regardless, his less than enthusiastic response left me pondering if I had made the right decision. I let it sit a couple of weeks before I decided to take any action. Not knowing how to style it, in addition to realizing that it wasn’t short enough to emulate the exact look that Kravitz had, the only logical (at least logical to me in that moment) next step was to go back to the hairdresser to cut it shorter.
Both not so sure about the cut!
Call me crazy, but if I was going all in, I was going all in. With the close to completely shaved head, my curly hair required a chemical straightening to get the full effect. My second attempt left me with a new love for the haircut. I was in love and best of all it required zero maintenance, save the simple task of washing my hair. Left with this newfound confidence with this drastic change, I couldn’t wait to show it off. For the most part, I received positive feedback about the final cut. The only one that did not seem to come around was my husband.
Maybe hate is a strong word, but he really did not like the new cut. He did tell me, “you are beautiful no matter what, but …” It did not matter what was after that but; I felt a crush of confidence right away. I know what you are all thinking, who the f*** cares what he thinks, it is your hair and if you are good with your haircut that is all that matters. On one hand I agree with that, and not that I make my decisions solely based on what others think of me, but let’s just say that the one person whose opinion I do care about had me question the longevity of this look.
So here we are, almost a year later trying to grow out that pixie cut. Let me tell you this is a road I never want to travel again. In the beginning stages, it was quite enjoyable, I still got to rock the short look as the bangs grew out, but were still short enough to come down my forehead – this is what I called the Mod look. As those locks started to venture pass the eyebrow line is when I became an investor in all the bobby pins I could get my hands on in Milan. I started combing my hair back, for the Rockabilly, wet look, complete with hair pomade and gel. Which leads us to where we are now, the mullet. My back, bottom layer is going through that awkward flip stage I was talking about earlier, while my top bangs don’t even reach passed my ears. Combined with the thickness of my hair, let’s just say it creates a natural pompadour that I tried so desperately to construct in my college days (only now it is not so welcomed on my end). But I am terrified to cut it any shorter, even if it is to catch up with the top short layer.
What is a girl to do? Do I get extensions and risk damaging my hair to have to cut it again? Or do I just stick it out and keep at the waiting game? One thing is for sure, I am not cutting it anytime soon.