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For as long as I could remember, I’ve been wearing weaves, hair extensions, and whatever else I could to cover up my own crazy locks. When I first wasn’t sure how to control PCOS, or what vitamins to take, my hair would fall out in huge chunks, and hair extensions were a better alternative. Most of the time I did it out of laziness, or so that the Houston humidity wouldn’t attack my hair causing 2 hours of painstaking work to be reverted into poofy, unruly curls. 

Most of the time I did it because I hated the shape of my face, and all I wanted to do was hide it. 

For as along as I’ve been alive, I’ve had a round face – poofy, squishy, circular. I’ve always been kind of insecure about it because even when I got to my lowest weight, my face still looked chubby – something I hated. PCOS also does awful things to my face, between skin changes, random breakouts, and crazy, quick weight gain that would make my face go from alright to so puffy overnight. I always just kinda needed something to hide behind. When I wore hair extensions, I felt secure because I could hide my face. I could sort of hide behind it, people would notice my hair, and not so much my face. 

So imagine my surprise when my hair dresser (a woman whose been doing my hair since I was 5) told me she was going to Africa for a month. I thought I’d be able to handle it. Then she left, and I was like “CRAP.” So, I unweaved my hair myself, and I was shocked at my hair: long, curly locks, flowing past my shoulders, so much of it. 

Then imagine my shock after I put it up in a pony tail, and took scissors to it to create the female, millennial, haircut of the season, “the lob.”

At first I was really happy about it. I had done something liberating. I cut my hair. But then I realized the weight of what I’d done – I cut my hair. I was so upset. 

After the happiness wore off, I just stared at myself in a mirror for a few hours. For the first time I can’t do anything to hide my face. I have nothing to hide behind, or play with. I have to look someone in the eyes when they walk by (I don’t have long bangs so that I can avoid a gaze, I have nothing to run my hands through when I’m talking and I get nervous. I have to deal with my face. All of it. All the time. No hiding. For some reason it’s hard for me.

So far everyone has said they like it, and now that I’ve figured out what to do with it, It’s starting to grow on me. I’m still not used to my face, but I’m going to get there. I’m trying my hardest to embrace the things that I think are beautiful. Chopping my hair off is far outside of my comfort zone, and I’m learning how to make it work for me.

And if I just can’t stand it, I think my hair lady comes back in mid-April – THANK GOODNESS.