I’ve never known quite how to spell that word. eh, dyslexia

I didn’t think I’d be writing something quite like this but as I was about to have a shower, I just stood looking at myself in the mirror for a moment. For the first time, in about five years, the colour of my hair is mostly my own. Aside from the blond(e) I’m growing out.

To anyone else this may be an annoyance, their roots showing. Or for a guy you might be surprised that I give a damn about this. But I did, and I still do. For the longest time my hair was one of the most public ways I could express how I felt, who I was. Though I wouldn’t say my quiff necessarily embodied myself, but it fitted into my narrative.

As a homosexual (that’s the first time I’ve ever typed that out) I’ve often felt rather different. Mostly because people have for the longest time told me “you’re not camp, but you’re definitely gay”. There’s so many things I have to say about that statement that I have to save it for its own series of posts.

For me, my hair represented one of the ways I could make myself seem more like other people. Concerned that if I didn’t people would notice. Granted bleach blond(e) hair certainly had the opposite effect but in it I felt like I was more myself. My physical appearance takes up a lot of my mental capacity, which I realise is ridiculous because I spend very little time caring about how other people present themselves. I also wasn’t getting any real enjoyment out of my hair, it often made me late for events or when I was supposed to be seeing friends. You know, the actual important stuff.

And then the other day I was flicking through my pictures of the last four years of university that has felt so hugely significant in becoming who I am as a person today, and I realised that the pictures I was fondest of, the memories I treasured most, were the ones where I hadn’t been so concerned with my hair. An outfit is decided on in 30 minutes and lasts the day. My hair required constant maintenance, which meant I was never truly living in the moment.

So as I stand here looking at myself in the mirror, it feels right to be growing out the bleach blond. (I finally settled). I’m more sure now of who I am, and what I want, and what I deserve, than ever before. The bleach blond me was trying to fit in. Now I’m just going to be me. And I feel that with everything that has happened in the past couple days, we all owe it to ourselves to live how we want to live, not how someone else wants us to live.

The picture is from recent photographs of Jupiter taken by NASA’s Juno Spacecraft


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