Rivvy
A Bold Transformation: Amanda’s Journey to Change
Amanda stood in front of her bathroom mirror, examining herself with a critical eye. Her dark brown bob, with its thick, straight bangs, framed her round face, and though it had been her go-to style for years, it now felt mundane and uninspiring. The bob, once a chic statement, had grown out of proportion, puffing out at the sides and making her head appear larger than it was. Amanda sighed, running her fingers through the dense layers, noting how heavy her hair felt. It gave her a mushroom-like appearance, reminiscent of a Beatles fan from the 1960s, and she could no longer ignore how it contributed to her insecurities about her weight.
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” she whispered to herself, her fingers grazing the septum ring she always wore. It was a small, silver piece that added a touch of rebellion to her otherwise conventional appearance. Her earrings, too, were a staple—a pair of large hoops that she loved for their ability to draw attention away from her insecurities. But even with these bold accessories, Amanda felt stuck, like her look had stagnated along with her self-confidence.
She had always been slightly overweight, a fact she had come to accept but not necessarily embrace. Her dark makeup, thick eyebrows, and penchant for dramatic eyeliner were efforts to distract from the fullness of her cheeks, but lately, even those tactics seemed ineffective. Amanda was tired of feeling like she was hiding behind her hair, her makeup, her jewelry. She wanted to step out from behind the curtain and take control of her appearance in a way that felt bold and empowering.
The idea of changing her hairstyle had been simmering in her mind for weeks, spurred on by the occasional glances at more daring cuts in magazines or on social media. But every time she thought about making the leap, a wave of doubt washed over her. What if she hated the result? What if it made her look even worse? What if, instead of feeling empowered, she felt more exposed than ever?
But today was different. Today, Amanda felt a strange mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling within her. She was done with what-ifs. She needed a change—a drastic one, if necessary. With newfound determination, she picked up her phone and scheduled an appointment with a stylist she had never visited before. She had heard great things about this particular salon from a friend who had recently undergone a dramatic transformation herself.
As Amanda walked into the salon, the familiar sounds of blow dryers and casual chatter surrounded her. The stylist, a woman in her late 40s with a confident air, greeted her warmly. Her own hair was cut into a sharp, asymmetrical bob, a testament to her skill and boldness.
“So, what are we doing today?” the stylist asked, leading Amanda to the chair. Amanda hesitated for a moment, staring at her reflection in the large mirror. She could see the weariness in her eyes, the dissatisfaction she felt with her appearance. This was it. She couldn’t turn back now.
“I want something different,” Amanda said, her voice firmer than she expected. “This bob—it’s too puffy, too full. It makes my head look like a mushroom, like I’m stuck in the 1960s. I want to change it, maybe take out some of the volume.”
The stylist smiled, nodding as she examined Amanda’s hair. “We could undercut the sides, take some of the weight out. That would give it a more modern look, and it would definitely make your hair feel lighter.”
Amanda swallowed hard. An undercut? That was more daring than anything she had imagined. She wasn’t sure she was ready for something so extreme. But then again, wasn’t that the point of all this? To push herself out of her comfort zone?
“Okay,” she agreed, her voice wavering slightly. “But… not too much, right?”
“Trust me,” the stylist said evasively. “Nervous?” the stylist asked, picking up on Amanda’s hesitation.
“A little,” Amanda admitted. “But I think I’m ready for a change.”
“Great,” the stylist said with a reassuring smile. “We’ll start with the back and go from there.”
Amanda nodded, her heart racing as the stylist began sectioning off the top of her hair, gathering it into a small topknot to keep it out of the way. She watched in the mirror as the stylist reached for a pair of clippers. The buzzing sound filled the air, and Amanda’s stomach did a flip. She had seen undercuts before, but they were always subtle, hidden beneath longer layers of hair.
The stylist brought the clippers to Amanda’s nape, and with a single pass, a significant portion of hair fell away, leaving a stark, almost bald patch behind. Amanda’s breath hitched as she realized just how high up the back of her head the undercut was going. What she hadn’t realized was just how exposed she would feel as the clippers made their first pass.
She had envisioned a small, barely noticeable undercut, something to thin out the sides and back. But as more hair fell away, revealing more and more of her scalp, Amanda’s heart began to race. The stylist was cutting much higher than she had anticipated, and the imagined gentle undercut was quickly transforming into something far more dramatic. Amanda wondered if she had made a mistake.
“This is a lot more drastic than I thought it would be,” Amanda said, her voice betraying her nerves. “Is it… is it supposed to be that high?” Amanda asked, her voice laced with growing panic.
“Trust the process,” the stylist said, her tone calm and steady. “It’s going to look great once we’re done. We’re just taking out some of that bulk.”
Amanda nodded, trying to steady her breathing. Her unspoken protests were too late now. She began to realize that the reduction of bulk she had hoped for could have been achieved without the undercut being shaved nearly to the scalp. The extent of the change was now unavoidable, and her anxiety over the drastic transformation grew.
She watched as more and more of her hair was clipped away, the pile of dark brown strands growing larger on the floor. The stylist was meticulous, ensuring that the sides were evenly shaved down to a near-stubble. Amanda nodded, trying to calm herself, but the rising anxiety was hard to ignore. The sides of her head were now nearly bare, only a faint stubble remained where her hair used to be. She could feel the cool air against her scalp, a sensation that was both foreign and unsettling.
When the stylist finally let the topknot down, the contrast was even more pronounced. The top of Amanda’s hair still held its thick volume, but it was now perched atop sleek, shaved sides.
The stylist paused, letting Amanda take in the sight of her half-finished cut. The top of her head still had the familiar fullness, but it was now exaggerated by the stark difference between the voluminous top and the shaved sides. Amanda could feel her anxiety rising again.
“It’s still very voluminous,” Amanda said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m not sure I like how it looks with the sides so short.”
“We’re not done yet,” the stylist assured her. “I’m going to shape the top now, take out more of that volume. It’ll balance out the cut.”
Amanda nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. The stylist began working again, this time focusing on the top layers of her hair. She used scissors to thin out the bulk, making rough cuts that gradually transformed the shape of the bowl-like top. The process was slow, methodical, and Amanda found herself holding her breath with each snip.
As the stylist worked, Amanda’s mind raced. She had asked for change, but now that it was happening, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. What if she ended up hating the final look? What if this drastic haircut only made her feel more self-conscious?
But as the stylist continued to shape her hair, Amanda began to see the cut taking form. The top was still voluminous, but it was becoming more controlled, more deliberate in its shape. The stylist had created a rounded fringe, curving just above Amanda’s eyebrows, and the sides were blending more seamlessly into the overall style.
“We’re getting there,” the stylist said, stepping back to assess her work. “Just a bit more shaping to go.”
Amanda stared at herself in the mirror, trying to reconcile the unfamiliar image with her sense of self. The bowl cut was becoming more defined, more sleek, and the shaved sides were now a stark contrast to the perfectly smooth top. Her expression grew more serious as she realized just how much her appearance had changed.
“It’s all the same height,” Amanda said after a moment, breaking the silence. “There’s no shape, no variation.”
“Don’t worry,” the stylist said, her scissors still at work. “I’m about to add some shape now.”
Amanda watched as the stylist began to refine the cut, adding subtle layers that gave the bowl cut a more dynamic look. The sides were kept high, just above her ears, but the front was shaped to dip slightly toward her fringe, creating a more interesting silhouette. The blunt bangs were smoothed out, resting just above her eyebrows in a straight, clean line.
The more the stylist cut, the more Amanda’s panic grew. The weight line of the bowl cut was creeping higher and higher, revealing more shaved scalp than she was prepared for.
The stylist paused, stepping back to assess her work. “We’re almost there. I just need to adjust the shape a bit more.”
Amanda nodded, but her hands were gripping the armrests of the chair, her knuckles white with tension. She had expected a bold change, but not this. The roundness of the bowl cut, combined with the exaggerated height and the stark exposure of her scalp, was accentuating the roundness of her face. She felt trapped in the chair, her mind racing with thoughts of how she could fix this, how she could walk out of the salon without drawing stares.
The stylist continued to snip away, the shape of the bowl cut becoming more defined, more severe. Each snip seemed to reveal more of her scalp, the exposed skin glaringly visible against the sharp, precise line of the cut. The once soft and familiar silhouette of her hair was now a stark, geometric shape, a line that cut across her head, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.
Amanda’s breath quickened as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The bowl cut was sleek and polished, the fringe blunt and heavy, just above her eyebrows. But it was the height of the cut that terrified her the most. The weight line sat high on her head, leaving almost half of her scalp exposed. The shaved sides made her head look smaller, and the rounded top only emphasized the roundness of her cheeks. She barely recognized herself.
“Is this… is this really how it’s supposed to look?” Amanda asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
The stylist smiled warmly, but Amanda could see a hint of concern in her eyes. “It’s a bold look, Amanda. But it suits you. It’s edgy, modern.”
Amanda wasn’t so sure. The cut was definitely bold, but it felt overwhelming. The panic that had been simmering under the surface was now threatening to boil over. She had come in for a change, but this was too much, too fast. She wanted to be bold, but not like this.
“Let me just finish up the back,” the stylist said, moving around to the back of Amanda’s head. “I’m going to refine the shape a bit more.”
Amanda nodded numbly, her mind spinning. She watched as the stylist made more cuts, each one revealing just a bit more of her scalp. The once soft, familiar feeling of her hair was now replaced with the stark, smooth sensation of exposed skin. The cut was so high, so severe, that Amanda felt like she was losing herself in it.
Finally, the stylist stepped back, brushing away the last bits of hair from Amanda’s shoulders. “There we go. All done.”
Amanda stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes wide with shock. The transformation was complete, but it was far more extreme than she had ever imagined. The bowl cut was sharp, sleek, and undeniably modern. The contrast between the thick, rounded top and the exposed scalp was stark, giving her an edgy, almost rebellious look. But all she could see was how high up the weight line was, how much of her scalp was visible.
“It’s… it’s really high,” Amanda said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The stylist nodded. “It’s an extreme look, but you pull it off. It’s a statement, Amanda. Something that says you’re confident, bold.”
Amanda wasn’t sure if she felt confident or bold. All she felt was exposed, vulnerable, like she had been stripped of something essential. The haircut was beautiful in its precision, in the way it framed her face and highlighted her features. But it was also terrifying in its severity, in the way it left her feeling exposed and unrecognizable.
As she stood up from the chair, Amanda’s legs felt shaky. The stylist handed her a mirror, and she turned to see the back of her head. The cut was even higher than she had realized, the shaved scalp almost reaching the crown of her head. The bowl cut was sleek and polished, but it felt like it was sitting on top of a head that wasn’t hers.
“Thank you,” Amanda managed to say, her voice shaking with emotion. “It’s definitely… different.”
The stylist smiled, giving her a small nod. “Remember, it’s just hair—it grows back. But this is a bold step, Amanda. Something to be proud of.”
As Amanda left the salon, she felt a strange mix of emotions. The haircut was beautiful in its own way, a work of art that demanded attention. But it was also a reminder of how far she had pushed herself out of her comfort zone. She had wanted a change, but now that she had it, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to embrace it.
The crisp afternoon air hit her newly exposed scalp, sending a chill down her spine. Her head felt lighter, almost unnervingly so, as if she had left a part of herself behind in that salon chair. The sharpness of her new bowl cut, combined with the drastic undercut, had transformed her in a way she hadn’t fully anticipated. The contrast between the sleek, rounded top and the closely shaved sides and back was jarring, almost alien. Each step she took, she could feel the eyes of passersby lingering on her, not out of recognition, but out of curiosity.
She had wanted something bold, something different—but this, this was beyond what she had imagined. The chubbiness of her cheeks, which she had always been somewhat self-conscious about, now seemed exaggerated by the severe cut. The thick, blunt fringe and the rounded shape of the bowl cut drew attention to the fullness of her face, accentuating its roundness. Her cheeks looked plumper, her face softer, but the contrast with the sharp, almost harsh lines of the shaved sides created a strange dichotomy. It was as if the haircut was highlighting both her soft, feminine features and something more edgy, something more daring that she wasn’t sure she was ready to embrace.
Amanda glanced at her reflection in a nearby shop window, her heart sinking as she took in the full effect of her new look. The weight line of the bowl cut sat higher than she had ever wanted, with her shaved scalp visible from almost every angle. The top of her hair, still thick and voluminous, felt out of place against the stark, almost brutal minimalism of the shaved sections. The sleekness of the top contrasted sharply with the barren sides, making her head seem oddly disproportionate, as if someone had drawn a line too high and cut away more than was meant to be.
And then there was her figure. Amanda had always been slightly overweight, a fact she had accepted with a mixture of resignation and self-love. But now, standing in front of the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice how the new haircut seemed to exaggerate her proportions. The sharpness of the bowl cut contrasted harshly with the softness of her body, making her feel more exposed, more vulnerable than she had expected. The severe lines of her hair emphasized the roundness of her cheeks, making her face look almost cherubic in comparison to the edgy cut. The tension between these elements felt unsettling, like she was two people trapped in one body—a contradiction made visible for all to see.
As she continued to walk, her fingers reached up instinctively to touch the septum ring that had become a part of her usual look. She wondered if it had influenced the stylist’s decisions, pushing her toward something more drastic, more rebellious than she might have otherwise chosen. Amanda had always liked the edge that her septum ring gave her, a subtle hint of rebellion in her otherwise modest appearance. But now, with this haircut, the ring felt like a statement piece in a much louder declaration, one that she wasn’t sure she was ready to make.
Had her septum ring been the catalyst for this transformation? Had the stylist seen it as a green light to push the boundaries, to take her further than she was prepared to go? The thought gnawed at her as she continued her walk home, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of the ring. What if she had come into the salon without it? Would the stylist have been gentler, more restrained in her approach? Amanda couldn’t shake the feeling that the ring, once a symbol of her own quiet defiance, had now contributed to a change that felt overwhelming.
But there was nothing to be done about it now. The cut was final, the transformation complete. Amanda was left with no choice but to live with it, to embrace this new version of herself—or at least try to. As she walked, she could feel the stubble of her undercut, a stark reminder of the drastic change she had just undergone. The sensation was foreign, strange, and a little unnerving. It was as if every time she touched her head, she was reminded of the extent of the transformation, the fact that she could no longer hide behind her hair.
She knew it would take time to adjust, to get used to seeing this new face in the mirror every day. Maybe, eventually, she would come to love it, to appreciate the boldness, the edge that the haircut gave her. But for now, all she could feel was a deep sense of uncertainty, a nagging doubt that whispered she had gone too far. The haircut was a statement, that much was certain. It was a look that demanded attention, that couldn’t be ignored. But it was also a look that made her feel exposed, vulnerable, as if she had been stripped of something essential.
As she turned the corner to her apartment, Amanda tried to steady her thoughts. This was what she had wanted, she reminded herself—a change, something different. And change was always uncomfortable at first, wasn’t it? Maybe this haircut was just the first step in becoming someone new, someone bolder, more confident. Maybe the shock would wear off, and she would start to see herself in this new light.
But as she caught sight of her reflection one last time before heading inside, Amanda couldn’t help but feel that the stylist had pushed her too far, had taken her beyond the point of comfort into something that felt almost alien. The height of the bowlcut’s weight line, the harsh contrast of lengths, the exaggerated roundness of her face—it all combined to create a version of herself that she wasn’t sure she could reconcile with.
And so, as she closed the door behind her, Amanda took a deep breath, hoping that with time, she could learn to embrace this new look, this new version of herself. But for now, all she could do was stare at her reflection and wonder if she would ever feel at home in her own skin again.
