My first buzz cut happened about two years after I wrote it down on my bucket list, it might seem like a stupid thing to write on a bucket list, I mean it's just a haircut it's not like bungee jumping or getting a tattoo, but it seemed like such a big deal to me and when I first wrote it down I didn't even quite realise why. It took me so long to even ask my parents about maybe doing it and then even more time to stand up for it, honestly, I just didn't really understand why I wanted it so badly until I had finally gotten the courage to stand up for it and go through with it.

When I finally did get it I went to a barber shop, which as someone who had identified as a girl their entire life is a place I've never been before. It had two guys, one who was styling someone's gigantic beard, with the other waiting near the counter. The music wasn't too loud, there weren't a million women talking all at once, the prices were cheap and shown on a blackboard and there were stickers on the mirror that were mostly band logos and references to weed. I felt very out of my element but also like I wanted to explore this element to its full potential. My dad left me there and told me to text him when I was finished, I paid the ten dollars to the guy, and then he led me to the seat in front of the giant wall of mirrors.

I said "a number one please" in the most nerve wracked voice you can imagine, the guy looked at me like I could be playing some kind of prank on him, although I'm not sure what it would have been. He questioned if I was sure and even though I was very anxious, my solitary "yes" must have convinced him because I wasn't questioned again, and he made a little light conversation about something I no longer remember. And then he turned the razor on and there was no more conversation. My mum used to cut my hair and that was pretty quick but I had been to the hairdressers enough times to know that it takes hours no matter what you're having done, but this took twenty minutes max. And the mirrors were giant, so I could just see the transformation happening and it was incredible, although I did close my eyes for the second half so that when I opened them I was a new person, I was myself, but anew.

At the time of this haircut, I knew that I was definitely nonbinary, and when I looked at myself in that mirror I felt more myself than I can ever remember feeling. I still had feelings of not being right with some of my body but at that moment it was like all that mattered was the lack of hair and I didn't feel dysphoric, but euphoric. And then I texted my dad, and he kept telling me I looked like a female singer with a shaved head that he was familiar with, but I was not and I felt very uncomfortable with that comparison but honestly I wasn't sure why, until later when I realised I hated being compared to a female, but I didn't tell him because he had given me this wonderful day and feeling that I don't know if I would've gotten the haircut anytime soon and if I had I doubt it would've been in that very interesting and masculine (in a good and affirming way) environment, that I've just never had the opportunity to experience before.

The second time I was at my aunt's place where two of my aunts were getting their hair done by a hairdresser who goes to your house, they offered for them to pay for the woman to do my hair and because my hair was getting longer than I was comfortable with (which is so weird because I've had long hair my entire life but once I knew how right a buzz cut felt I knew I could never go back) I accepted. It was not too bad for a while but then my aunt who was there with me went to another room and the hairdresser said something about this being a fun choice and about how "us girls love to experiment with our hair don't we" and it was said in such a nice and friendly and not at all judgemental way and it made me feel absolutely terrible, because of last time and of how the haircut in general makes feel very nonbinary and sure of myself and this lady who had no way of knowing just said this thing that wrecked me. I replied politely and honestly I don't really remember the rest of the haircut or saying goodbye to her or any interaction I had with my aunts after that. But about three days later when I was still thinking about that minuscule interaction I put on my doc martens and my cool red jacket and felt sure of myself in a way that I know if I still had long hair those simple actions of putting on certain clothing would not have made me feel.

Following both times I spent probably the next hour constantly touching my head like I couldn't quite believe it was real. But it was and it still is, I am real, so is my short hair and my pronouns of which don't always stay the same and most of all my identity, of which can confuse people most of all myself, but just because something is confusing doesn't make it any less real.