Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits

So I got a haircut. It’s been about three months, and I got an actual cut- where it had been about to my shoulders, I got it buzzed on the back and sides, scissor cut on the top. It’s not a particularly feminine cut, but I like it. It’s shorter, I use less shampoo, bedhead is far more manageable… and it’s cooler, both figuratively and literally.

As always, my mother felt that she had a right- no, a responsibility to tell me on no uncertain terms what she thought of my hair. I look like a boy, masculine, butch, hulking… most of which would have made me really happy, had they not been flung at me with barbs attached. Mocking me for not being feminine enough, and with a hateful look that could freeze hell.
I really do enjoy being masculine. It’s comfortable, it’s a place I know. But every time I do anything to fill that, my mother has to tear it down. I got a binder, I cut my hair off, I dress in a way that the person in the mirror is a person I’m okay with being. And then my mother sees me, and tears it away.
Fine. So I went out yesterday, and bought makeup. I spent about forty-five minutes to an hour trying out different ways to apply it, different eye shadow, learning to apply eyeliner. And I washed it off a few times, and tried again, and I acheived something I liked- lower lashline eyeliner and red lipstick. I went out into the family room again, and then it’s more comments about how shitty it looks- words like “ridiculous,” “ugly,” “gross.”
So I present to you, my readers, this dilemma. Reluctantly feminine, I wasn’t feminine enough. Actively masculine, I’m brutish, hulking, ugly. Actively feminine, and I’m ridiculous and ugly. And all that without the comments on my weight, which, even if I started on a doctor-approved 2lb./week weight loss program, she would continue to make comments about my weight for at least another two and a half years.
Nevermind how many times I ask her to speak to me like an adult if she has thoughts on my appearance, never mind how many times I have asked her to keep her opinions to herself, especially unhelpful, unasked-for, unwanted opinions, to no avail.
I live with the woman. I have at least another year and a few months to live with her, unless she dies suddently. And I don’t know how I’m going to survive, because being around her drains all the joy and will to live from my life.

5 thoughts on “Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits

  1. I know how you feel, my mom was the exact same way. You just have to work your ass off trying to get away from her and in the meantime try not to break.

  2. I’m so sorry you’re going through that. I live with my mother as well, and although her comments are nowhere near that extreme, even the subtle gender policing I have to put up with on a daily basis really tears me down. For some people, we will never be good enough–and so to be happy, we have to do our best to tune out those messages. I wish I had your bravery to cut my hair! I’ve been thinking of doing something similar for some time, but I’m still afraid of the reactions I would get.

    • Thank you. I’ve been thinking about cutting my hair for literally years, but now with all these negative reactions I’m beginning to think I should just let it grow out so I’ll stop having to hear her comments. ❤

      • It’s so hard to strike a balance between doing what makes you comfortable and doing what you have to in order to avoid others’ negativity! I’m sure your hair looks awesome, but ultimately it’s up to you to decide what’ll make you feel better.

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