Every semester I change up my hairstyle. At first it was a coincidence– I always cut my hair when I’m at home, to keep the ole noggin’ looking fresh, I suppose. After a while, I kind of made it “a thing.” I started freshman year with sidebangs, came back second semester with layers, sophomore-slumped in a fringe, slumped even further in accidental blonde locks (by the way– I did not have more fun) and started junior year, as previously reported right here on The Rib, with “the chop.” But 2017 has given me no new hairspiration. Yet.
Usually, changing up my hair is a way for me to mark the novelty of a new semester or a new year. And newness, for me, is usually always good. Or exciting at the very least. I can’t be the same person I was a month ago if I have bangs now, right? Your whole personality changes the moment your hair does– every chick flick ever has taught us that.
But then November 8, 2016 happened, and the things I usually crave– excitement, unpredictability, novelty, inexpensive guac– are also things that terrify me now. So I keep thinking: what if me dyeing my hair is like the one thing that sets off the darkest timeline– the tiny, but gravely significant incident that Marty McFly would have to come undo? What if me not getting a buzzcut this semester is the only thing keeping us from World War III?
I know. That sounds like a lot. Frankly, yes, I might just be a narcissist, because who in their right mind would think that the literal fate of the world revolves around them? (Me.) I get it! But! I also have been watching a lot SciFi (the news– I’ve been watching the absolutely unbelievable, straight-out-of-the-Twilight-Zone NEWS) so maybe my thought process isn’t that odd?
Since keeping my hair short and boring is the only thing preventing The Second Coming, I’ve been trying to brainstorm ideas to safely venture into the unpredictable once again. This is all I have so far:
- Go to the Ratty with a trusted friend — THESE DAYS YOU NEVER KNOW what it will look like.
- Think about the state of democracy– THESE DAYS YOU NEVER KNOW what it will look like.
- Try eggnog. Again.– Post-election and pre-finals, I don’t know, I just kind of forgot to do my annual tasting to see if I still think it’s the most disgusting thing in the world. (Edit: I have tried it and it is. But there’s that novelty I was looking for, I guess! Riveting.)
Please let me know if you have suggestions. Otherwise, I’ll likely turn to extreme sports. Like skydiving. Or getting into a capped class, you wild beasts.
Image via Annie Warner.