Pixie- 1) short hair, close to the head, around the top of the ear to ear lobe at longest length, boyish cut
2) small human-like tricksters that lead people astray, similar to fairies
Around the age of 6 my mother wanted me to get a pixie. I hated them and didn't want one. My hair was around shoulder length but I agreed to get it trimmed, since I had loudly protested against the pixie, I thought we were in agreement.
Some time that same year my grandmother took me to pick out a dress. It was the high end children's clothing store, the one we could never otherwise afford.
I tried on a blue sailors dress with a crisp white collar that had blue anchors on the tips. It had a pleated skirt that fluttered and whirled when I spun.
I wanted that dress, but walked home broken hearted without it. Too short.
I cried some, whined a lot, and plotted like a pixie on how to get grandma to turn around and get it.
I must have twirled that skirt in my head a hundred times.
At our home was a staircase ,at the end of that staircase was a gold mirror and in that mirror was a sobbing girl with a pixie haircut. It seems when the beautician turned the chair around my mother whispered her plan for my hair and since she was the parent it superseded mine.
I cried for hours, I yelled, I hated it.
I was so mad, how could she do that.
It was only hair but I remember being completely exhausted from crying over it.
Years later, the gold mirror is gone but the disappointed crying little girl still peers in.
Now it is more
a bad hair day
ugly clothes that fit too tight
I stand there and envy girls that can wear pretty dresses and twirl in them, not dying of embarrassment if that skirt went flying up.
Those pretty girls with pretty faces, long flowing hair and lacy dresses, do they ever cry when they look in the mirror?
of course they do.
Something within women wants to be loved, accepted, valued and pretty. To be special.
A single friend of mine once said, "I want a man that makes me feel like a girl."
I want to be a girl.
I want to be pretty.
It seems I spend so much time thinking, if I ate less.....exercised more....then I would be, duh....
but then the reality of crunching cookies and hours on the couch crash in.
Kind of like when your hair is long and flowing....you chop it off, and wonder why you did it.
I know pretty is not only about the outside. Our identity is not only the way we look...I just wish the pixie inside me would stop showing up in the mirror.