So I saw Molly Tuttle’s picture yesterday, bald as a cue ball. Shocked the heck outta me. Honestly, my first thought was ‘what fresh hell?’ It just stuck in my brain, buzzing around like a trapped fly. Why would she do that?
The Idea Starts Brewing
Couldn’t shake it off. Her hair was her thing, right? That gorgeous blonde flow. Every time I thought about cutting my own hair short, I chickened out. Just snipped off an inch and called it a day. Pathetic. But seeing Molly go full chrome-dome? That got under my skin. Made me weirdly itchy. Started thinking… what if I did it? Just… off.
The Impulse Hits
Was folding laundry this morning. Seriously. One minute I’m pairing socks, the next I’m rummaging in the junk drawer. Found the clippers I bought ages ago for my ex-boyfriend. Never even took ’em out of the box. Battery was half-dead. Didn’t matter. Plugged it in right there in the living room.
Here Goes Nothing
Grabbed the longest guard attachment – number four. Figured that was safe. A trim. Put the guard on, buzzed a stripe right down the middle. Looked okay. Felt weirdly powerful. Then the stupid attachment popped off halfway through the second stripe. Flew across the room. Couldn’t find the damn thing.
Tried putting it back on wrong. Big mistake. Took a huge chunk out near my temple. Panicked. Tried to “fix” that side. Chunks flying everywhere. My cat looked horrified. Said screw it, took the guard off completely. Pressed the buzzing thing right to my scalp right at the hairline.
Point of No Return
The sound was LOUD. Scarier than I thought. Hair just fell away in fat clumps. Kinda gross, honestly. Kept going, patchy as heck. One side felt rough like sandpaper, the other felt longer but uneven. Looked like a mangled poodle in the hallway mirror reflection. Thought about stopping. Too late.
My hands were shaking. Finished the top best I could, leaving some tufts like a mangled brush. Went over it again without the guard, pushing harder. Mistakes blended. Mostly. Ended up with weird tracks in places where the teeth skipped. Neckline? Disaster zone. Like a blindfolded toddler took a weed whacker to it.
Aftermath & Why Molly Might’ve Done It
The silence when I clicked it off was intense. Floor covered in brown hair – way more than I expected. Ran my hand over my head. Felt alien. Cold. Bumpy. Looked… extreme. Utterly ridiculous. Felt like my head had shrunk. Ears felt huge suddenly. Strong urge to find a hat and never take it off.
Honestly? I get it now. Maybe not her reason, but I felt something changing when that hair hit the floor. It was reckless and stupid and ugly as sin on my head, but man, it was liberating. Like dumping something heavy I didn’t realize I was carrying. Shedding an old skin. Probably looked ridiculous walking around with half my hair missing too. Maybe she just hit her own ‘screw it’ moment. Needed the weight gone. Needed the change, good or bad, ugly or beautiful.
Now I’m just trying to figure out if I leave it like this or wear a scarf until it grows back enough to look like I meant to do it. Doubt it. But hey, at least I don’t have to fold laundry now. Too busy vacuuming up my hair.
