Lisa BUKATINA

It’s In My Hair

Lisa Bukatina

On pondering for quite some time whether there was something in my appearance that stood out, something that was special about the way I looked (and there definitely had to be a hidden meaning behind that thing), I came to the realization that I am as ordinary as can be when it comes to looks. There is not a single thing in my wardrobe that carries an interesting story, – and even if it does, I don’t give it much thought. Why would I, right?

So, there I was, frantically searching in my mind for that special something that would make sense – why I always chose to wear jeans instead of dresses, or why I couldn’t go out without putting a ring on both my middle fingers, or why I always felt the need to wear necklaces, or why I scarcely put any makeup on my face, or why… I was the way I was. It was at that moment that it suddenly hit me – maybe the mere fact of not having anything prominent to associate myself with was my peculiarity.

Looking at myself with that perspective in mind actually did help me a lot to find something that mattered to me about my looks, and which also could tell a story about me. It is the way I wear my hair. But what can possibly be special about that? Well, it is natural that it plays a huge role in the way other people perceive us based on how our hair looks. Being a girl with quite long hair, I was always expected to wear it down. “Why wouldn’t you? It is feminine, and you look more beautiful that way anyway,” said everybody even when it was none of their business. Partly, they were right – I do look more attractive with my hair down, and probably that is why there hasn’t been a single picture of me with a bun or a ponytail for a very long time.

The problem is that despite the fact that I like my appearance better that way, I don’t feel like myself when my hair is hanging loose. I always feel as if I were trying to impress somebody, and as if I were conforming to society for people to see a desirable picture of me on the daily. And, frankly speaking, that is the last thing I would want to do. There is something about it that I just can’t take myself seriously that way. I like the way it looks, but not the way it feels. That is why you can almost always see me wearing a bun, especially when I have work to do. It is not only about the convenience (but surely it is important too), but more about the self-image that I created in my head a long time ago.

Appearance as it is takes a backseat to something more significant when I wear my hair up. I am my true self, even though it might sound odd. I am not bothered by the looks and fully focused on the things around me. That way, I am self-disciplined, collected, and somewhat modest.

It might come out strange when I say it, maybe even stranger than I think it will, but I feel as if I am two different people depending on how I choose to wear my hair. Down – I fit in in the concept of a “cool” girl, I am confident, outgoing, and – let’s face it – maybe even a little bit arrogant. I perceive my long hair as some kind of shield that hides my imperfections and protects me from the outer world in the form of judgment. Though, in fact, it doesn’t. It just somehow deflects unnecessary attention from my face, but the interesting thing is that I am not that self-conscious about it, rather I’m quite content with the way I look. Why try to cover something you are not ashamed of? Sadly, that is the question I still was not able to answer for myself.

Up – I am who I really am: simple, open, authentic, genuine, honest with myself and others, but for some reason vulnerable. Vulnerable as if I’m making it easier for others to hurt me if I don’t look the way they want me to. The truth is, I put down my walls if I put up my hair around you. If I choose comfort over producing a favorable impression on you, congratulations. When it’s up, I know my mind is focused on the right things. I know that there are no distractions for me – I don’t have to check whether my hair looks just the way I want it. I know it does, though it might look a bit plain. But aren’t I, myself, plain? Suddenly, there is freedom, there is credibility to me, there is transparency. My poise is not achingly forced anymore.

At times I feel like I am making all of this up, trying to find this secret meaning, the nonexistent undertone of things. Isn’t it absurd that if you think a little bit too much about something you got so used to, you will discover that everything is not as simple as it seems? You will notice certain patterns, the obscure ones, which turn out to be a reflection of the past events that shaped you into who you are now. Maybe it was a childhood memory that caused it, or somebody’s words, or the mirroring mechanism that you just can’t suppress in yourself. It could be anything actually, yet it remains the case. You find yourself subconsciously doing something over and over, without much thought, when in fact you are just projecting your past experience and your thoughts onto your appearance and the little things about it.

And even though it is not that deep after all, every time I take off the hairband in public – whether it is to take a picture or before meeting someone new, I stop and ask myself, “Who are you trying to impress, really?”