Happy 2012 everyone! I hope that you all had beautiful sexy New Year’s celebrations. I decided to bring in the new year with a big change to herald a fresh start – I shaved myself bald. Yep, right now I have eyebrows, eyelashes, and a small landing strip in the pubic area, and that’s it.
I’ve wanted to shave my head for a while, but it’s never been the right time. Joel has a shaving fetish, so I’ve had it in the back of my mind that someday I would go totally bald for him. He’s written me fantasies for years that involve me shaving off everything. While I wouldn’t go to such lengths if I didn’t want to for my own sake, it is fun knowing that he really gets off on it. New Year’s Eve I just started thinking about going for it. It’s a perfect time for a clean slate.
Harold agreed to help me out. He sheared me like a sheep. There was a point at which, with the clippers humming over my ear, I realized I couldn’t go back. Tears started. I mourned the loss of everything my hair stood for – my femininity, my beauty, my status, my youth – until I realized that it’s all crap. Surely all that I am is mine, not contained in my hair.
I still go back and forth. Sometimes I feel incredibly sexy. At the New Year’s party I went to, I felt very glamorous. I love that Joel wakes up with a hard-on after a night of erotic dreams. Harold just gazes at me with love and adoration, saying that my beauty is simply more apparent. But sometimes, I feel like I look like a victim. Normal people don’t shave their heads, it’s cancer patients and concentration camp survivors. Oh wait. Survivors. Survivors have shaved heads. So maybe, I too am a survivor. Maybe my shaved head is a symbol of my strength.
I find myself struggling to know who I am. I’m suddenly more aware of how much I present an image to the world all of the time, in ways I was not aware. I feel more truly queer now, without the gendered signals of hair, just me. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of the trappings of gender, but I don’t want the trap of gender. It’s confusing. I can’t tell if this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, or if I’ve disfigured myself. I hear both voices.
I wasn’t expecting how cold I would be. I’ve been wearing hats, a lot. Or how my head would stick to everything like velcro. Or how complete strangers would either veer away from me or want to touch me. Or how bad-ass I would feel. Or how great it is to not be constantly fussing with my hair. Or best of all, how I almost orgasm when the hot shower spray hits my scalp. It’s intense! The weirdest thing is when I touch myself and I can’t tell if it’s my fingers or my head that’s cold. Little by little, I’m adjusting.
Despite the misgivings, I feel fantastic – free, open, and sexy. Sometimes the hardest thing is setting aside your fear and listening to your true voice, whether that’s around sex, your art, your career, or shaving your head.