Having been born with a full head of hair, I have never been effectively bald until today.
A tumble of whimsical curls grew into a thick bunch of relentless straightness, which my mother tried to tame with a variety of hair styles, ranging from bangs to curly perms to bobs. From what I recall, the history of my hair was rather experimental in elementary school. Then the excitement factor of my hair reached a plateau in my years of adolescence as I settled into the groove of hair norms.
Though I let my hair grow out naturally with hair cuts here and there, I think I had a developing streak of daring in me. Sophomore year in high school, I cut 13 inches of hair into a short bob that ended at the bottom of my ears; pretty short for me but still within the boundaries of "normal". Sophomore year of college I entertained the idea of getting a pixie cut, but ended up growing my hair out to the longest it's ever been. So, naturally, this year I decided to shave it all off.
Sometime in April I proclaimed my growing fancy to my friends, discussed the implied craziness, thought about my reasons and the practicalities. For about a month, I let the idea settle in my mind and, despite some of the surrounding doubt, it flourished into conviction. The possibility of shaving all my hair off grew even stronger as I got the okay from my summer intern supervisor and my parents.
With only finals week between me and a cleanly shaven head, I metaphorically sat myself down and thought through why exactly I wanted to shave my head. I wanted to do it because I simply just wanted to; now was the time as I was in college and had one more year to go before having to search for a job. I wanted to do it because I had stopped myself from getting pixie cut last year; something about girls being more attractive with long hair, which is sort of silly but very much real life. And I wanted to do it as a personal social experiment; an examination of how people who knew me and didn't know me would react to me and treat me differently due to my physical appearance.
So far I have no regrets. I sit on my bed with a beanie on my newly shaven head not out of shame but because my head is cold. Turns out that once all the hair on one's head is gone, the scalp is exposed to sensations of wind and air it has never been privy to, thus, even the slightest breeze makes it feel cold. I've learned that my scalp feels like skin (woah, what?) and, as long as you don't go against the grain of my hair, it feels like one continuous forehead (or neck, depending on what perspective you would like to take). I've also learned that I have a few moles, a birthmark at the back of my head, and a tan line where my side part used to be. The rest of my scalp is shockingly pale with a sheen of greyish blue due to the my densely packed hair follicles. I'm looking forward to watching how the state of my scalp transforms over the next couple of months.
I've started this blog in order to chronicle my thoughts on the shaved-head life and the various reactions I garner in my day-to-day life. As the informal social experiment this is, I figured I should have some sort of record to keep me accountable to being in the observational mindset. So, here it is!
I will admit that I probably would not have been able to make this decision so confidently without the immense social support I received from my parents and friends. I have been so blessed, so incredibly blessed to have friends who care and love for me well, who will laugh with me (and laugh at me in healthy portions...sometimes I need the humility...or pronunciation help), and who will still be my friends regardless of the state of my hair. I am thankful for my parents for their gracious and loving support, always coming with a good dosage of humor.
Thank you, dear friends, near and afar, for each of your words of encouragement and acceptance. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for loving me through all the peculiar and exciting ways I have come into my own. And Thank you, Lord, for all your bountiful blessings and goodness to me.
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