Personal Narrative: My Hair In High School

Brazilian students usually shave their heads when they are admitted to college. I expected to follow the tradition on the beginning of the following year. On January, I realized that 2015 would be a good period to enjoy the once in a lifetime experience of having long hair. I later decided that I should have a man bun. Maybe it would look strange, or people wouldn’t like it. But well, I wouldn’t care. On July, I trimmed the sides of my head and started flaunting a timid ponytail. It was a symbol of my ego, as it had been to the old samurais. But my pride was promptly turned into shame. "You should cut your hair. It looks awful." "I didn’t like it." "Are you gay now?" "You look like…" Some few colleagues gave me positive
feedback, but even close friends were straightforwardly acid. I should have known how to deal with this situation. During my boyhood, I had some trouble getting along with my peers. My nose would look like Mr. Potato’s, or I would be chubbier than the other kids. I had overcome this back then, and I believed I had become immune to others' commentaries. However, it was proven to be wrong when I got my new haircut. There were moments when I just wanted to be invisible. The desire to fade away made me perceive how thirsty I had been for the spotlight.
I had broken an aesthetic barrier looking for applause, but I ended up finding scorn. I had made that change with wrong purposes. I realized that if I didn’t change this misguided mindset, I would be quitting my New Year’s resolution. So I switched it. Soon, I began seeing the silver lining of looking different. Most people would remember me after the first time they saw me. I, therefore, began to feel that I had some responsibility of always delivering a good first impression to the people I met. I also became more open to meet more people from different crowds, since I had discovered with how inaccurately my image was judged by others - after all, stereotypes are just false beliefs. So eventually people seemed to be more receptive to me, either because of my unusual look or because I became more approachable. Eventually, the judgments became faint background noise. Recovering my confidence gave me strength to pursue my objectives. I could avoid the pessimist atmosphere that surrounded my classmates during the period we were preparing to apply for one of Brazil's most selective colleges - Pinheiros, the Medical School of the University of São Paulo, which only accepts 1% of its applicants. I could silence the hopeless commentaries that surrounded me and keep my
focus. I learned that pride should not be displayed to lessen others.