Jesus, etc.; Wilco

This morning, while brushing my (huge, frizzy, obnoxious, face eating) hair, I thought about how much easier my life would be if my hair didn't expand in humidity. And when I say "expand", I mean quadruple in size. I thought about solutions, and the only plausible one I could come up with was shaving my head. So - I did.

Ok, just kidding. I didn't. It's not the first time I've thought about it though - coming very close two and a half years ago when I chopped it all off, leaving a very, very short pixie in it's wake. Surprisingly enough - this was not easier. I loved the way it looked though, and will probably go back to that at some point in my life. I looked hot. Slightly man-ish, but hot.

Every time I've mentioned my (insane) desire to shave my head, people either come up with one of two responses, divided (not) surprisingly, by gender. The male gender usually replies, "Seriously?" Half the time because they don't believe me, and the other half the time because why would a girl want to get rid of her hair? Isn't that what makes them a girl? (Heads up, boys: hair is not where we hold our magical female powers. Yes, we have magical female powers.) But women usually reply with something along the lines of, "Why? Your hair is so pretty!"

Oh man, here comes my ego... Good thing my hair's so big right now, it's hiding the ego.

Women are always jealous of things they don't have. Well, maybe envious is the better word. If we have big hair, we want little hair. If we're tall, we want to be short. If we're short, we wear 5 inch heels so we can look tall people in the eyes (and still get called "shorty". Worst nickname ever.). Being a woman is always a battle of wanting what we're not. I mean, seriously: how many smart girls have pretended to be stupid in order to please a guy? We've all done it at least once. (This coming, of course, from the girl who, after being informed by a gentleman that he would never marry someone with a higher degree than him, told him to look elsewhere because she was getting at least a masters. And he only had an associates. Bummer...)

And this envy and desire to be someone different, something else, is beginning early. Teaching a martial arts class last night, two of my eight year old students started complaining about how one girl wanted the other's dimples (god damn dimpled girls. They always look so adorable...) and the other wanted the first girl's hair. Eight years old, man. That's way too young to be discontented with your appearance. At eight, you should be naive, young and focused on running around and scraping your knees as much as possible... you can always hate the scars later.

We do it subconsciously. I used to hate my hair - growing it out and straightening it every day. If I didn't straighten it, I'd wear it in a tight bun so that none would creep out. The pretty girls at my high school (read: the bitches (how come in high school, being pretty meant you were a bitch?)) had perfectly straight hair that fell perfectly, framing their perfect faces with their perfect little sneers. Why does it take so long to realize that perfection isn't beauty? That being perfect is boring and often leads to an inflated sense of self?

Is it possible to change this dynamic, though? In high school, when all of our bodies are rebelling and we don't know what to do, it must be the ones who gain control the quickest who define "beauty". Whether that's the girls with the perfect faces, or the one with interesting looks, all places are different. All that matters is that the self is grown into, and we see who we are and accept it. Love it, even. Get on it.

And yet again, this has turned into a motivational speech. Sorry, guys..