I’d had medium length hair for years. From grade seven on, I was shoulder length and by the time that grade twelve was over I was officially done with my old identity. I decided to take a year off school to recharge my batteries and enroll the next year with a totally new group of people in the hopes of starting some new friendships.

But I didn’t want people to make friends with someone who looked like the Old Me. The Old Me had a boyfriend who had been publicly cheating on her for six months before she broke up with him. The Old Me was wildly angry about her friends choosing him over her. The Old Me was always placating, accommodating, never standing up for herself. The Old Me had to hit the road, she had too much baggage.

I’d thought long and hard about how to get rid of the Old Me. My tactic was mostly superficial – I pierced my nose, got a tattoo to remind me that I was different and stronger, I was enrolling in university without knowing anyone I would be in classes with… but it wasn’t quite enough. I still recognized the Old me in my face and my want to change was so strong that it made me want to scream.

It was definitely the hair. What else could it be? It had to go.

I went to a friend of a friend at her cool urban salon. The walls were pink, exposed brick and mirrors everywhere, framed in by flat panel TVs. This place looked like somewhere The New Me would like. So I uttered the words that would banish the Old Me forever.

“I’m thinking a shaggy pixie cut.”

To my credit, I brought in pictures. I was overflowing with Mandy Moore & Elisha Cuthbert pictures. I said “pixie” but all of the photo evidence I brought suggested something 3″ long at the shortest. I meant something light and flippy. My friend of a friend talked to me about what I wanted & we agreed. She started cutting from the back, and I felt so much lighter! I could feel the Old Me falling away, like someone different would be revealed when we carved some of my length away.

She had cut about a quarter of my head and was working up towards the front when she had to step away away for a moment. I turned my head to admire the first glimpse of my new haircut…..and my hair was a quarter of an inch long.

WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?!!

My stomach jumped into my throat, I was dizzy, reeling, I wanted to go back and re-do the past five minutes. Why was she cutting it so short?? Why was…it was…. and it slowly dawned on me that there was absolutely nothing I could do. She had cut too much of it too short for me to be able to say anything. It couldn’t be fixed, I had to just let her finished. I was paralyzed. So I sat and chatted with her, trying to mask my horror, while she cut away all of my hair and proceeded to “clean it up” with clippers. It was a quarter of an inch long on the sides and just shy of a half an inch long on the top.

I walked to my car – hyper aware of the different looks I was getting now that my shoulder length wavy locks were gone – and tried to breathe normally. I fell into the drivers seat and pulled down the mirror to have a look. I officially had a buzz cut. This was just what I needed. Now everyone who knew the Old Me would think that I was having a nervous breakdown. This would be further evidence of my state of mind, and I would be a joke to them.

Sitting in the front seat of my little blue civic, I had a total and complete meltdown. So complete that the first person I called wasn’t even a sympathetic friend. The first person I called, howling & sobbing, was my mom. Somehow I managed to drive myself home, shaking with anger and betrayal. The New Me was just as much a stranger as the Old Me. How had I possibly managed this?

The months after getting my hair chopped right off were hard. I didn’t ever consider myself a superficial person, but I guess my hair was more a part of my identity than I knew. I felt naked and raw all the time. My grandparents were concerned about me. My friends around the university didn’t recognize me for weeks – a complete blessing – and thankfully by the time they did I had built myself up to the point of being able to wave and enjoy the shock and horror of their reactions. They couldn’t handle my transformation – couldn’t process it – and some part of me relished that. I was unfathomable to them. Good for me! It said more about them than it said about me.

It took me a while, but eventually I started to love my short hair. I maintained it at a super-short length for about 8 months. I looked beautiful in my own way – my eyes popped like nothing else and while I had nothing to hide under, my features and personality were feminine in contrast with my little cut. I got more female attention than I could shake a stick at, which I was thoroughly amused & flattered by. I felt like a walking social experiment, guys & girls who would have never given me a second look when I had long hair were suddenly coming out of the woodwork, and my old friends had no idea what to make of me. I stopped trying to hide & really enjoyed that no one could quite put their finger on me at first glance anymore.

I started dating Mister when I had my buzz cut. He was the T.A. for one of my university classes – we started dating in January 2004 and had moved in together by February 2005. My hair cut was far too expensive for me to maintain when I moved out, so I started growing it out.

The “Shaggy Pixie Cut”, 4 or 5 months into growing it out

It’s taken four years but I’ve finally got the long hair that I’ve been growing my hair out for. I really love it – but I don’t let it become part of who I am. The Old Me was a girl who was paralyzed – by her relationships, friendships, image, and the imagined expectations of others. The New Me? She’s a lot more laid back, someone I would want to hang out with. She has days where she feels like a million bucks and days where she can’t get out the door in one piece. She almost never looks perfect in pictures, is unsure of herself sometimes, but she’s happier than the Old Me ever was.

With my long hair & the way I dress I think it’s easier for people to feel like they have an idea of who I am just by the way I look. If that makes them comfortable then I’m fine with that – but the New Me showed me that really, they don’t have any idea of who I am or how strong I am. They might think they have me pegged, but they really can’t put their finger on me, and that’s exactly how I like it.