I’ve decided to start my own Happiness campaign which sounds cheesy AF and it is but fuck knows I need it right now.
The concept of happiness to me is ever-changing. Every now and again, and don’t get me wrong I’m not miserable or sad as I type this, I just feel like I need a joy injection. Just a little something that delivers a swift shot of euphoria to keep me going.
This can be in the form of almost anything, from a new lipstick to three great days in a row at the gym (even one tbf). It can be a series of really good #selfies or a drinking session. The point is it doesn’t matter what it is but you’ll recognise it when you see it. Or more to the point, when you feel it.
So I’m going to spend this Summer exploring the things that make me happy. I’m going to start with this post on hair which is a hugely superficial sounding thing but is actually, in many ways, a much deeper topic to explore.
Wondering what the flip I’m going on about? It’s okay, that happens a lot round here. To hair!
I got my barnet cut off last weekend (image in that thumbnail over there on the right). Big fucking deal you might be thinking but I’ve been a long-haired lady for at least the last decade so bite me. I’ve been having it cut gradually shorter for the last couple of months but wasn’t happy with the overall effect (basically nobody noticed). This is likely because I was too scared to ask for what I actually wanted, something I am renowned for.
Eventually I got exactly what I wished for with a new (and amazing) hairdresser who just got me. It’s short man, and I bloody love it!
My husband does not. But that’s okay, it’s a shock to the system and essentially it grows out of my head so I get to choose. He’ll hopefully come round to how happy it makes me and deal with it.
I mean it’s not like he’s gone off me or anything but it has opened my eyes once again to men. The delicate feelings of poor overlooked and misunderstood men.
I’m not attacking my life partner per se but it’s a head of hair for fuck’s sake. Why shouldn’t a woman do what she wants with it? Why is the (mostly male) concept of femininity so wrapped up in the length of a woman’s hair?
Femininity to me is so much more and sure, it’s hard to define but it’s more than just a hairstyle (and it’s not gender specific either, yo).
We can’t all waft about with Khaleesi locks and it’s okay. Neither could Daenerys if she was doing anything other than breaking chains and fucking about with dragons, she’d at least have it up in a jaunty pony out of the way. But still men expect us to look that way, like a ‘woman’ at all times, comfort be damned.
Truth is, my long hair was cool and all but it was hell and I never maintained it the way I ‘should’ have. It got badly tangled the closer I got to ‘trim’ time and it was humiliating to sit in a salon having someone comb out the knots for 20 minutes at a time. I felt like a horse and not a prize-winning stallion, let me tell you.
So I decided to change it, for maintenance and also to change it up. Looking through Facebook I’ve had the same do the entire time. I want to look cute as much as the next person – and now I think I do.
I look upon my new hair as a political statement (albeit a small one). One in the eye of the men who’ve asked me what I’ve done to my ‘lovely long locks’.
The Italian man in the Co-op whispered about it with his colleague as I perused the sandwiches for god’s sake. How about I’m not your property?
How about you ring up this Cheese & Pickle, my man and shut your damn mouth?
So yes, I’m looking into happiness on the whole. Who knows where it may take me? But for now, I feel great about my new look and can’t stop running my fingers through my glossy bob (or ‘lob’ = long bob). I’d say that’s a pretty good start.