When are the hairdressers going to be allowed to reopen? What am I going to do about my hair?
I heard this a lot during the 12 week lockdown earlier this year. It appears that managing our hair growth was something all of us bonded over during lockdown. I think that I’m not alone in wanting to have hairdressers classed as essential services that can continue to stay open if we go into tighter restrictions, or dare I say, another national lockdown.
By the way, I don’t normally like to post photos of myself on my blog, but I’ve taken the plunge for this post because I couldn’t see a way out of it. Anyway, this is me in my final few weeks as I’m having one of my goodbye *sob sob* lunches with friends. I think I’d recently had a hair cut.
About 4 years into living in Cambodia, I was finally brave enough to get a pixie cut.
It turned out to be perfect for life in a tropical climate, albeit at that point viewed upon as an unusual hairstyle for a female. In Cambodia, there is a custom of shaving one’s head when there has been a terrible tragedy. Normally you’d see the eldest in the family do this when there had been a death in the family. Thus when some of my Khmer friends saw my pixie cut for the first time, they thought that I had received some awful news and was very upset. Not so. There’s an interesting cross-cultural difference titbit for you.
I was still pretty attached to my pixie cut after I left Cambodia. It was one of the ways I could hold onto a remnant of me in Cambodia. Nonetheless, come May 2020, I asked on Instagram:
‘This is annoying. Maybe it’s time to cut my fringe myself or shall I endure growing it out?’
Most replied: grow it out.
Then in June 2020, I wrote a little ode to my pixie cut, which I’ve revised a little here.
Dear Pixie Cut,
Dear Pixie Cut,
It’s been a long time since we saw a hairdresser.
Now you tuft out at the back,
You get in my face when we run,
We can’t decide what to do about the fringe,
And you tuck beautifully behind my ears.
Is it time for us to part, move on and let you grow out?
Can I hold onto you for one last cut?
In July, I was finally able to book an appointment with the hairdresser. I wrote a haiku.
4 months in lockdown.
Turned into a bob.
Yes, I decided the time had come to say goodbye. And honestly, I was alright with it. Time, eh. There’s no substitute for it being a healer.
By the way, are hashtags in poems allowed? Are they a thing?