As he sawed through my dense hair, we invited queerness in to the bathroom—and into our connection
In January, in the third sunday associated with the eleventh period of your countless pandemic, We believed flattened by countless weights: COVID-19, Zoom calls, the grind of winter season operating, anxiety. I became desperate for a change—anything that could jolt me away from my sleepy state and into a prickly understanding. As my personal boyfriend, Cole, and that I squeezed into my personal top-floor apartment restroom, I stared into my tiny, crooked mirror, evaluating the years of wavy growth to my head—bleached by sunshine, split by heating and dry skin and curled by months of persistent dampness. We parted my personal longer, honeyed locks and pinched my tresses into four ponytails. We exhaled deeply: “Okay, I’m prepared.”
We walked to the bath tub in a football bra and short pants and held the initial ponytail perpendicular to my head. Wielding a pair of scissors, Cole sawed through my personal thick hair, tugging at my scalp while he hacked through locks, as well as the very first ponytail decrease towards the bathtub floor.
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We continued the method for a few extra ponytails, leaving behind a mess of comically irregular clumps. I found myself reminded of when my children would seize four pairs of scissors and audience around all of our wonderful retriever, Daisy, to offer this lady a sloppy Doing It Yourself summertime haircut in our Indiana garden. Cole, who had never ever reduce hair before (these will be the exigency of quarantine lifestyle), made use of the scissors to sculpt and style the irregular patchwork he’d mowed across my skull—and, remarkably, they began to capture profile.
a roomie shuffled into the bathroom with an expansion cable so we could connect the electric clippers to a remote retailer. (mais…)