Owning my hair

This post was inspired by an Integration Game session last week, that I hosted for some ladies.
On the red card that I have drawn was written something about appreciation. I chose the dark side of it, meaning envy. I told the one with the longest, blackest and prettiest hair that I was envious of it.

All three of them started laughing uncontrollably. Eventually, they cooled down.
I continued as a Leo, by joking about not being a full fetched diva without that long hair that I could flick and play with as seen in the movies. The one with glasses suggested that I get a wig, because hair transplant is not cheap. 

I kept thinking about it for several days after the game:
"But what is envy?  Wanting something that you couldn`t have.

I accidentally stumbled upon one of the roots of unacceptance.

Flashback from the past

When I was in my gymnasium years, I was the odd one. The fattest in the classroom, that was constantly made fun of. Later, in high school, word was out I was not only the chubbiest, but also the hairiest. Those were two odd traits I had to deal with.

In my first year of university, I met Vlad in the dorm where I was staying. This future pharmacist was from Moldavia and had a fit  Russian-type body, a serious look on his face, and shaved head. One day, he smiled and told me something that still brings tears to my eyes:

"Hey, man, do not worry. You look good. Fat and hairy. If you were like a stick and hairy, well, that would be another story. We guys, we need to be like this. It`s in our genes. The strongest ones."

For the first time, I felt understood. 

***

Some years passed and I felt subliminal messages from the fashion industry reinforcing my belief that I am not enough. Somehow I needed to shave all of it and not be myself. My family didn`t help either, because they were surfing the trends. 

In my longest relationship, my ex-girlfriend had a firm suggestion in the beginning of our first summer. She wouldn`t go to the beach unless I shaved all my hair. I negotiated and cut off the excess hair with an electric hair cutter. The good part is that she liked the goatee that I had when we first met, and this carried on, transforming itself in winter time into an "Abe Lincoln" type of beard.

Although I`ve stood my ground with her on this, by refusing to wax it, there was a shadow of a doubt that was regularly visiting me, whispering from the corners of my mind. 

Confident in my hands on abilities, I started cutting my head hair, because it`s very dense and I couldn`t go wrong. I also bought a nifty pair of hair scissors from the campus` general store. 

Who needs a barber anyway? 

The current month

It`s been three years since I`ve been doing this regularly. It`s a form of independence, or I don`t trust the barbers enough. Also, as an introvert, I prefer skipping the small talks whenever possible.

Regarding hair in general, I`ve began reading on it. Cutting the hair was a form of punishment and stigma of the school pupils in the 20th Century Romania. I`ve heard that long hair is a sign of fertility and beauty in females throughout the globe. To some husbands` despair, they hate whenever their loved one cuts too much of her hair at once. Also, it`s said that whenever one wants to make a change, the simplest one is to cut his/her hair.  

Today, I had set a new goal: growing it for four months.

For years I got accustomed to having short hair, because it`s easier to take care of. It`s a sign of owning it and enjoying it. I will be caring for it and when necessary, for example trimming it around the ears. 

That woman`s long hair made me realize that my own hair is unique and pretty. I could look at it from another point of view, and thanks to that day I learned the lesson of acceptance, the hard way.