So the topic du jour around FetLife lately is hair. More specifically, who can do what with it. Can the sub save it, the slave submit to losing it? If you shave it all, does the loss of your dead protein head covering make you crazy and traumatized?
I’m bad at this whole “going into slavery with my eyes wide open” thing, because it never occurred to me that I could submit to Him but still retain full authority over my hair. Oh how I want it to be that way in my dreamworld…a world where I can have a blue stripe in my hair, but it short to my ears, have it done up in cornrows and braids, get some awesome color put in…
Instead I have these rules:
- Do not cut more than 2 inches off without His express approval (layering exempted)
- Do not color hair anything other than naturally-occurring-in-my-lineage colors. This leaves a reddish brown, chocolate brown, Ash blonde and reddish blonde to choose from.
- No fucked up hair dos. Buns, ponytails, main braids and puppy ears are allowed. Down and brushed is best. Hair must be long and relatively unscathed. No cornrows, full head braids, dreds, beads…NO.
Before college became a reality I handled the above restrictions fairly well. I figured eventaully the day would come when He’d become tired of my long plain jane hairstyle and let me do something to jazz it up a lil. Maybe some cute contrasting chunky highlights, or a short asymmetrical bob, something different than my current Little House on the Prairie look going on. Now that college is imminent, I can feel some old panic and resentment floating to the surface, little bubbles of impotent frustration and anger floating in an otherwise calm pond of acceptance. I’m going to school to join a workforce that is rather conservative regarding hair for safety and aesthetic reasons.
Once college is done, I’m trapped into a forever of buns, braids and ponytails, of bland colors and a melange of cute scrunchies to enliven my hair.
I want to rebel against this eternity of matronly suppression. I don’t want to admit to myself that my chances of ever playing around with the hair on my head are fully over.
I want a chance to reinvent myself, if only for this short bit.
And I didn’t know then, but I know now, that the chance was gone before I ever missed it. It was foolish and false hope that sustained me this long, and now that flying carpet’s been shot down.
I’m not traumatized, but I am forlorn. Another link in the chain around my brain and my heart. Slightly heavier load than before, but eventually that weight will feel comforting. Just have to wait until then.
And stop reading my friends’ writings about having purple and blue hair and pixie cuts.