I love the feeling of a haircut. Even just monthly trims or periodic minor clippings leave your hair feeling polished and under control, and a drastic chop like my latest is like removing 8 inches of dead weight. I’m finally getting used to the feeling of reaching for the back of my head and having nothing to grab for below the nape of my neck. I like it. It’s cool in the summertime, and it just feels like one less thing my head has to carry around. I’ve been told it makes me look much older, but I don’t really care to have an opinion about that. (Meaning I know it does, but that’s not imagery that important to me to claim.)
But the problem with any haircut is it doesn’t last forever. A person’s hair continues to grow for the rest of their life and even some after they are dead. Growth tends to be inescapable like that. But what bothers me most isn’t the growth – it’s the splitting of the ends. My favorite thing about a haircut is how healthy my hair feels afterward. The ends of long hair can begin to feel very worn and frayed, especially for someone who dyes, and a haircut trims off all the old leaving only the new, young growth. And just after it’s cut, all the ends are the same length, except for intentional layers cut into the hair. But the pieces that you want to be the same length are; you could draw a straight line connecting all of them, and each piece is healthy from the top to the bottom. Then a few weeks later, just as you’re beginning to really like how your hair looks, you can see the ends beginning to spit. Each individual strand begins to look jagged, and eventually what was once one fine strand becomes two white-tipped heads spitting from one another.
I wish there was a haircut that lasted forever. I wish what I cut was gone, and that what I was left with was good. But the eternally perfect haircut is a myth, like unicorns, and closure.