Lockdown Love: Pixie Cut
The surrender of the Saturday morning, the clean sweep towards a near-pixie cut, and us falling in love all over again.
Lockdown Love. Our new series explores love in this new ab-normal life. Where masks have replaced kisses and hugs have become emojis. Where cold steel and glass have replaced the warmth of flesh and blood. How has love changed? Or is it still the same, underneath the layers of disinfectants and face-coverings? Tell us a new love story. In 250 words or less. Send your submissions to lockdownlove.dailyo@gmail.com.
We will publish the best ones on Mondays.
Here is the very first.
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PIXIE CUT
By Shweta Shiware
Sometimes the simplest test of a partnership is to sit still, bow your head in submission, and trust your partner to mow the clipper across the lawn of your hair. The lockdown slipping into week-six wasn't looking good for my pixie crop that had outgrown into a wild shag; the long layers tumbling down the nape of my neck, pricking like an unwelcome guest. So on an ordinary Saturday morning, I sat in front of our bathroom mirror, my partner positioned behind, gently stroking my hair in an upward motion, asking me, “Are you okay?” before moving sideways.
We met during an office coffee break on a May morning in 2015. “I love your pixie haircut,” was the opening line to what could become a page out of Modern Love. The surrender of the Saturday morning, the clean sweep towards a near-pixie cut, and us falling in love all over again.