Poetry of Pixies

Do you ever get the urge to just do something crazy? Something you've made excuses to avoid? Something you're nervous about? Sometimes this goes for huge decisions. And sometimes . . . it goes for getting a haircut.

(And for writing? Ah yes. Writing does tie in at the end, believe it or not. But first, more about hair!)

Pixie cuts. How can you not like them with a name like that? There was always something about the idea of a pixie cut that I found appealing. But I would never get one myself. Of course not. My face is too round. I'm too round. My chin would look weird. My wavy hair would never style right. It would look like a pile of frizz on my head. I just wouldn't be able to pull it off.

But I liked pixie cuts. And then, as so often happens with me, something I liked became something I loved thanks to the fact that I'm a nerd. Enter Mary Margaret Blanchard: aka Snow White from Once Upon a Time.

In this series (which just so happens to be one of my favorites ever - more on that inevitably coming later), Snow White is played by Ginnifer Goodwin. When all the fairy tale characters are transported to our world by a curse, they forget who they are and take on new identities. Thus Snow White becomes Mary Margaret Blanchard - and her long hair becomes one of the cutest pixie cuts ever.

Yep, I loved Mary Margaret's hair. And I made comments about how I wished I could pull off a hairstyle like that.

Then one night I was texting a friend about him getting his hair cut. Once again, I said something half-jokingly about wanting to get a pixie. And he said, in so many words, "Why not?" So for the first time, I started to seriously consider it. The more I considered it, the more the idea grew on me.

Of course I had to ask a few select friends if they thought I should go for it in order to get some reassurance. But the more I talked about it, the more I decided that I wanted to do it, and I wanted to do it soon, before I could back out. So I bid farewell to my long(ish) hair. . .

 

And I went for it.

That's not to say I wasn't nervous. I tend to silently flip out in the middle of a hair cut ("What on earth is she doing? How is that ever going to look good?!"). I even brought a certain best friend for moral support. . . and (jokingly) glared at her whilst getting my locks shorn.

When the floor was covered in curls, I finally looked into the mirror. And I started laughing. Because honestly? I had no idea what I thought of it. I thought it was different. I thought I didn't recognize myself. Admittedly, there was a fleeting thought that said "What did you just do?"

But everyone assured me it looked great. So I finished the night of hanging out with my previously mentioned best friend, and apart from noticing the funny feeling of actually having bangs, I didn't think about my hair too much. That night, though, there came the dreaded photo shoot. I knew people would ask to see pictures. But would I like the pictures? As vain as that sounds, don't we all know the dread of a bad haircut? Taking pictures was my way of putting it to the test. The result?

 

 

Ok, so I was pretty happy with the pictures, which made me decide I was pretty happy with the haircut. Did it still take some getting used to? Oh yeah. But now, over a week since I got it cut, I can definitely say that I really am happy with it.

 

So, you may ask, "what does your haircut have to do with anything about writing?" This is a blog about me as a writer, after all. But have you ever noticed how getting a new haircut can influence both your perceptions of yourself and others' perceptions of you? The lady who cut my hair is a family friend, and when she was talking about how perfect she thought this style was for me, she said something funny. I don't remember her exact words, but the idea was that this haircut makes me look more like a writer. I thought it was so interesting that in her mind, my hair by itself was enough to make me look more like the person I want to be.

 

Do I agree with her? Possibly. (And I'm definitely flattered.) Will I keep the pixie cut forever? Probably not, though I have a feeling it'll be an option I'll return to occasionally. But it's hard to deny - how you look can, at least partially, define you.

 

So does my pixie make me a better writer? Give me more confidence? In a lot of ways - yes. Why? Because it was learning to take a crazy and fun chance. It was learning to put aside excuses and trying something new. And that's what writing takes.

 

Getting a pixie is writing a poem.