When I was somewhere around the age of 14, I made a list. I cannot for the life of me locate it but I can almost picture it exactly. Vividly, I remember the scrapbook I wrote it in. I’d picked it out because I loved its pink cover, black ring binding, thick square pages that I think were intended for watercolor painting. I’ve looked in all the places my keepsakes usually live and yet, somehow, it eludes me. On the page with the list is a palm-sized clipping of a navy blue toile fabric sample I’d gotten from Michael’s. My early teenage years found me obsessed with toile, call it some past life memory as a French princess or some subliminal Nancy Meyers coded messaging, I’m not exactly sure why, I just absolutely loved the pattern.
So what was on the list? Well, all the “Things I Love.” I wrote it in my neatest, most curly handwriting that looked as close to the immaculate and beautiful letters formed by the cool girls at school. Their notes always made me swoon, how’d they know to shape their ‘a’s like that? Their ‘r’s and ‘s’s? Switching between cursive and print letters to form sentences that looked SO COOL, a skill I desperately wished to possess.
The list ran down the left side of the page to align with the fabric on the right and I know it contained things I didn’t know anything about but thought sounded like who I wanted to be. “Brand New Mascara”, “Hardwood Floors”, “The Smell of Coffee”… I had to have read or seen someone else talking about the glory of these because I know I had no real-life context for “loving” them. The desire to write the list is what I recall more than the things I listed. I can very viscerally remember the deep need I had to get it down on paper. Here is a dramatic reenactment of my long-lost list:
The longing I had to write this list is an inclination of mine that’s never gone away. Now, I call them manifestations or vision boards, then “Things I Love.” Honestly, it should have been called “Things I THINK I Love” since at that point in my life I did little more than lay of the floor, stare at the ceiling fan and dream about who I wanted to be. The list was my way of defining something about myself. A container to look in and understand, this is who I am or want to be.
Yesterday, I got about 6 inches of my hair cut off. Purposefully, we went a little shorter than I wanted to give it room to grow into the shoulder length lob of my dreams. For now, she’s sitting about an inch above my shoulders. I feel like a girl in an action movie who’s dashed into a gas station bathroom, sawed off all her hair, dyed it, put on a leather jacket, jumped on a motorcycle and sped out of town to continue her adventure. Short hair, new identity.
I’d been fiending to cut it off for two months. A photo of me with my nephew saw only the first layer of my long hair falling in front of my shoulder and appearing that I had a collarbone length bob. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It had to go. Short hair is not new to me. My Junior year of high school was my first big chop. Then, at 28, the desire for a cut was so strong my friend Jamie spent three hours chopping half a foot off in our bathtub. Now, at 40, the newest incarnation of Short Hair Brittany.
I’d been religiously growing it out since 2019 and it has several times reached nipple length, a feat I never thought possible for my perilously fine, breakable hair. (The power of brushing is real, I swear it’s why it grew finally.) In June, at my last trim, I declared that I’d finally found my hair identity, “I’m a long hair girl, just half an inch off every time for the rest of my life.” Lol.
I should have seen it coming. I’ve been a LOT of different people in my adult life and it’s usually when I declare myself one thing that I immediately realize I’m the opposite. Funnily enough, this short hair transition has been rockier than I’d expected. I’m in some limbo between knowing there was no way I wasn’t going to have it cut and wondering who the hell I am now that I’ve done it.
Within my ever-evolving identity, I find consistency in my values, evergreen desires for honesty, humor and love. It’s why I am lucky to have so many deep, lasting friendships and also why finding new friends comes easily. There’s a certain depth and immediate warmth to someone who shares your integral priorities. It’s never lost on me how fortunate I am to be surrounded by so many top notchers who, by the way, have seemed okay with any of my up(or down)grades.
So far, Short Hair Brittany 3.0 loves: baking in the morning, falling asleep on the couch, writing this Substack and making collages on Canva…and like…a lot of other stuff. I got over rigidity when I gave up being vegan and haven’t stepped back into the label game for awhile. Well, unless we start getting into Astrology and Human Design, in which case, I will tell you I am a Libra Sun, Leo Rising, Virgo Moon, Manifesting Generator with a 2/4 Profile…but that’s probably for a Sweet Tea Talk later.
These days feel quite similar to the ones that inspired my first “Things I Love” list. A lot of sitting around dreaming about what I want to do now that I’m a grown up. I decided I wanted to be an actress when I was 12 and decided I didn’t when I was 35. After 23 years of pursuing one thing without giving myself permission to explore what else I might love, this era feels like a rebirth.
Allowing myself to change my mind, to keep exploring new identities and passions, is a freedom I’m still realizing. It’s easy to make a list and then feel the pressure to stick to it. But what about just making a new list? Taking a right instead of a left? Chopping off your hair and feeling unrecognizable even to yourself for a little bit. Why not? Some things change, some stay the same, some are worth revisiting if you can ever freaking find them again (COME BACK TO ME LONG-LOST LIST!). For the record, I still love toile.
READING
I’ve picked up No Bad Parts again after starting it and putting it down last year. Wow is it resonating. I can’t stop picturing Inside Out while reading about how to connect with all my parts.
WATCHING
Okay well, we watched Horizon. All 3+ hours of it and it wassssss liiiiiike, have you ever turned on a YouTube fireplace and just left it running in the background? It was like that except Western?
DOING
I’ve been dying to find my workout sweet spot. I’d gotten back into weight lifting at the beginning of August and then had some weird digestive flare up that left me very intent on doing nothing but healing my gut. Now that that’s feeling mostly better, I’m a bit lost at what to do for exercise. And so, I’ve started improv working out. If you can picture yoga+pilates+dancing+squats+weights sometimes…that’s what I’m doing…
It has now been September for one week and, after my August hiatus from extra content, I have remembered that I do other things here than just write to you. There is a cooking video coming in a couple weeks AND a podcast with Bonnie Lynn, artist of all the paintings you love here and also my mother!
Sweet Tea Talks, my treat for paid subscribers, posts this Wednesday as well so there is much to look forward to.
Wow, does the year speed up once Fall starts peeking around the corner. My SIL, mother, nephew’s and MY birthdays all happen in the coming month and then our trip to NYC. Getting organized with my time blocking and planning is becoming crucial. Needless to say though, I am excited and I am, as always, so happy to have you here. Thank you for reading.
I love lists too. And your short hair!
Loving your new 'do! 💁♀️