13 things that happened when I shaved my head

Edit: I hate this post. It’s cringe. But I’m leaving it up.

In June, I walked into a random barbershop. I was greeted warmly by an older man, already cutting someone else’s hair. I asked: “Is anyone available to shave my head?”

He looked like I’d asked him to cut off one of my limbs. Full Shocked Pikachu. It might have been because I was having a (rare) good hair day. My shoulder-length, blonde-ish hair was clean, bright, and bouncy – not greasy and tied back like it was most of the time.

“Shave?!” he queried.

I nodded.

A younger man marched out from a back room, and said “I can do it. I think you’ll look great.” No questions, no fanfare. Calm. Business-like. Perfect.

He gestured to a chair. I sat. He put the cape around my shoulders, picked up a pair of shears, and said:

“Okay. Are you ready?”

I gave him a thumbs up. He got started.

Here’s what happened next:

After spending thousands of dollars over the years on colorists, stylists, products, styling tools, and silk pillowcases, and living in a society where hair communicates identity, social status, and values, and when I’ve been cultivating a certain style for years, watching someone grab a fistful of my hair and snip it off a few centimeters from my scalp (in preparation for clippers) triggered a full-body panic.

I’ve had portions of my head shaved before, so I calmed down as soon as the clippers started vibrating on my head. But the scissor-hacking that preceded the buzzcut spiked my heart rate, momentarily taking my breath away.

“I told you you’d look good”, he said as he took off the cape. I barely heard him – I couldn’t look away from the mirror. I was levitating. A new person had appeared before me, someone I’d never met before.

The decision to shave came from a plan to start fresh and immediately grow out my hair without bleach or dyes, but by the end of the day, I was in love with the buzz and ready to keep it for a while.

While the compliment is well-intentioned, I don’t really care what I look like to other people anymore. And I don’t want the fear of “not having a good face for it” to stop other women from shaving their head. I’m yet to see a woman who doesn’t look like a new, more interesting version of herself with a buzzcut.

I’m now one of those people that believe every woman should do this at least once in her life.

For the first few weeks, I’d put on the same clothes I normally wear, and the same sunglasses, but was surprised that my normie-ass wardrobe appeared more… interesting? I suddenly looked like the kind of person I’d notice walking down the street and think “I bet she’s cool” – which is a pretty wild thing to think about yourself.

That the type of men that would normally look at me when I was blonde stopped perceiving me altogether, which I love. A completely different (and generally more interesting) subset of men and women now openly stare at me in public.

The most surprising reaction has been from older people. Older men seem to think it’s the coolest, edgiest thing ever, and older women can’t hold back their compliments.

The first shower after the shave was indescribable. Every shower since feels like bliss. I scrub my scalp and massage my head. The feeling of water hitting a hairless head is unmatched, whether it’s a shower or rain. I shave my head down to my scalp once or twice a week now, and the feeling of a freshly shaved dome covered in a scented, shimmering body oil is just incredible.

Furiosa, obviously. Also: Ripley from Alien 3, Evey Hammond from V for Vendetta, Eleven from Stranger things… But then there’s the cursed ones, like Gollum, Mr Clean, and Gru. So many options!

I’ve always been a chronic hat bitch and especially can’t resist a good baseball cap. At first, wearing a hat with a shaved head made me a bit self-conscious – I worried that I looked like a teenage boy. Then one day I just kinda got over it, stopped caring, and wore the fucking hats.

We get non-stop sensory input from hair: the pull of a ponytail, the irritation of hair in your face or the pressure of it behind your ears, hair stuck to your sweaty neck on a hot day, and even just the feeling of a dirty scalp that’s overdue for a wash (or caked in dry shampoo). Ugh.

I got immediate relief from something I didn’t even notice until it was gone.

No more packing hair products, hair tools, brushes, combs, pins, or elastic bands. Instead: more space for whatever else the fuck I want to pack, and more time for exploring and relaxing instead of washing, drying, and styling hair.

I don’t know how to explain it, but statement earrings or hoops with a shaved head just hit different. I can’t leave the house without wearing earrings now. They add a kind of balance to my head that I love, and without hair to compete with, they stand out more.

I can’t have messy hair without any hair! I feel most refined when I’ve shaved bald, right to the scalp, but even a few millimeters of growth feels tidier than a half-assed ponytail.

With more time (and money) to invest in skincare and makeup, I’ve felt way more put together since maintaining a shaved head. The closest thing I’ve found to describing the vibe is that I just feel more clean. Like I’ve got my shit together.

The reclaimed money, time, and energy from hair care and styling is liberating. The change in how people perceive me reveals so much about them as individuals. The lived experience of hair ≠ femininity is more significant than I thought it would be.

I feel lighter, less burdened. I feel beautiful and feminine, but simultaneously less attached to my appearance. I feel like I know myself a bit more than before. And all of that feels like freedom.

If you’ve ever thought about doing it, I can’t recommend it more highly. Life’s too short to wonder what it might be like.