Are we morally obligated to look good? This question has bothered me since basically the onset of puberty/my ED (which both occurred, unsurprisingly, at the same exact time), and continues to bother me now, twenty-odd years later, as I am seriously considering chopping all my hair off.

I chopped all my hair off once before, in like 2015 it must have been, around the time I started trying to get sober and read the novel “Dietland” and basically really leaned into this kind of “fuck societal beauty standards,” “imma do me” philosophy, which was super freeing. However, short hair looked awful on me. At work, I was constantly getting mistaken for a dude (it didn’t help that I have a deepish voice, big hands, and a flat chest). I looked terrible, like, seriously, and after a few months, when I got into a relationship (the same guy who was crazy enough to date (and then propose to) my unstable ass was also crazy enough to find me “attractive” even with super short hair, or so he claims; I still don’t buy it) and started wanting to look nice again, I couldn’t wait for the hair to grow back in. I vowed never to chop it all off again!

So why am I wanting to do it again, a decade later? Because: I had three kids in three years, and postpartum hair loss has done a real number on me, like, it’s bad, I’m not exaggerating when I say that I think my hair volume has decreased by at least 70%. It’s a tragedy; it looks terrible; I don’t have the time, energy, or funds to “take care” of it (I’ve always been a simple girl w/r/t hair care: just shampoo, conditioner, and maybe a leave-in conditioner – too much hair product gives me the ick, I hate gels and aerosol sprays and anything that makes my hair feel like it’s got stuff in it; and this routine worked fine for the first thirty-one years of my life). So, my hair sucks, it’s getting worse, I am powerless to do anything practical about it, and every time I see it, touch it, or think about it, this mess that is stuck to my head, it causes me great emotional distress; which means, as far as I can tell, my options are either wrap it up or chop it off. I worry about wrapping it, frankly, because I am white and I’m afraid I’ll get accused of cultural appropriation and/or mistaken for a cancer patient. So, chop it off, then?

But is that even okay to do? In my faith community, women don’t cut their hair short. Not because we believe it’s a sin, it’s just a cultural norm. Short hairstyles on women only became popular for Western women in the 20th century, along with some forms of immodest dress; in a way, bobs and pixies were I guess like an expression of “rebellion against the patriarchy,” which attitude is very much not in keeping with my faith. Women are expected to present as feminine and men as masculine (which also means that long hair on men is frowned upon, which, suffice it to say I have a few feelings about as well, lol). So, if I chop my hair off, I’ll probably get some funny looks, and people will probably judge me. It’s not like I can go to Mass wearing a t-shirt that says “it’s not a political statement, it’s postpartum hair loss,” lol.

But obviously if a woman has to chop her hair for medical reasons, that’s different, right? But, if I still have a choice (as in, my head is not bald with patches of hair, it’s still covered in hair, just very very thinly), am I not morally obligated to choose the option that will look nicer and more feminine?

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In the Catholic world, we take Beauty very seriously. The Beautiful is right up there with the Good and the True. Beauty reminds us of God. Furthermore, Catholics are very “bodily.” We believe that the body and its senses are, basically, good. We are not a soul trapped in a meat prison (despite my frequent jokes about my meat prison or, as I like to call it, meat tank – “not a tradwife, but a tread wife,” that’s me) – our soul and body are inextricable. We are both, and our bodies will be resurrected in the next life (which is why we are not cool with cremation). This “bodiliness” is also why we like our feast days, our outward signs and symbols, our beautiful ornate churches, and all that. God made us physical creatures with the capacity to experience pleasure and appreciate beauty!

As such, we have a duty to take care of ourselves. After all, our bodies are “temples of the Holy Spirit,” so we ought to dress and act like it. St. Francis de Sales says in “Introduction to the Devout Life” that his advice to his spiritual advisees is to always be the best-dressed, but most simply and inconspicuously dressed, person in the room. I.e., we should strive at all times to be clean, groomed, tidy, sensible, pleasing to the eye without being immodest or showy.

In this same vein, in the contemporary world of Catholic influencers and social media, you’ll often see discussions/reels addressing the subject of whether spouses are obligated to stay in good physical shape for their partner. (Which, in this era of “body positivity” and anti-diet culture, is pretty controversial.) And the consensus is: yes, they are: it is your duty, as a spouse, to make yourself as attractive as possible for your spouse. (This goes both ways, before you go accusing anyone of sexism.)

Which is not at all to say “you should marry someone solely for their appearance” or “if they put on weight, you can emotionally abuse or even divorce them” – those are definitely not the Catholic way. The point is, marriage is just as much physical as it is spiritual, therefore as spouses we have a responsibility to maintain that aspect of our marriage. If your partner doesn’t make an effort to take care of themselves, not only is that not good for them personally, it’s not good for their spouse either. “The two become one flesh,” etc.

Obviously, spouses have a special obligation to take care of and look after each other, to consider each other’s preferences. But even non-married people have a responsibility to take care of themselves and look presentable. (And this is not saying that people with better genes are morally superior. What you’re born with has no moral weight; it’s what you choose to do with it. A naturally gorgeous, skinny woman who doesn’t wash or groom herself and goes out in sweats and a t-shirt is failing, while a naturally homely, chubby woman who styles her hair, cleans herself up, and puts on a nice outfit, is succeeding.) This, as far as I have gleaned, is the Catholic POV on physical appearance and self-care.

Now, for me, and probably for a lot of women of my generation, and perhaps women in general (but I think especially those of us who came of age in the era of the Special K Diet and America’s Next Top Model, and had it ingrained into our young minds that thin and beautiful = superior), this can be a huge turn-off. Everything in us might hear “you have a moral obligation to be pretty” and, as a trauma response, retaliate with great violence and anger. “Oh no you don’t! I’ma stop you right there, don’t even try that one on me! I did my time in that hellscape, and I’m still healing from my trauma! You know what, I ain’t morally obligated to look good for anyone, my body is my business and my business only!!” If, like me, you ever went through a “revenge ugliness” phase (I’ve had a couple), you certainly get it.

Revenge ugliness is still something I have an inclination for. In fact, I probably let this inclination get the better of me, more often than not (it’s why my entire wardrobe looks like oversized trash bags). Like many of us who wrestled for many years with an ED and are tired, I am over the pressure to look sexy and appealing. I also hate the sensation of tight-fitting clothes – so many years of being so painfully body-conscious have made it so that I cannot relax in a fitted top. It gives me the ick. (This is also, apparently, not uncommon among women with ED history or body image issues.) We just don’t want to be perceived at all (also at play here, in my case, are the AvPD and my desire to dress modestly – although, if I’m being honest, my trash bag maxi skirts are only 20% for “modesty” and 80% to conceal my most hated feature, my hideous legs). So, revenge ugliness: just leave me alone to rot in my trash bag.

I felt the same about my super short hair, when I had it. It felt liberating. There’s something really comforting about revenge ugliness: setting oneself free from the male gaze. Back when I used to be really thin, wear makeup, and dress more prettily, I used to get more attention, more kindness, more interest, more acknowledgement in public spaces. It’s kind of cool to know that, if I cared, I could change people’s perception of me, but I don’t, so, it’s like a nice cloak of invisibility. It’s like opting out of this cruel game that all women are thrust into from the onset of puberty, whether they want to play or not.

But: revenge ugliness is not a Godly attitude to have. The Godly attitude would be, I guess, an honest appraisal of one’s naturally good and less-good features, and dressing accordingly, in a way that is modest, aesthetically pleasing, and demonstrates that you have some respect for yourself, your neighbors, and your daily life. So, for me, probably not trash bags and a buzz cut.

But: does God expect me to make myself that uncomfortable, just for the sake of being aesthetically pleasing? Does He expect me to just suck it up and deal with the emotional and even physical discomfort of living with my hideous thinning, scraggly hair, because at least the length is somewhat “feminine?” Does He expect me, as a married person, to exchange my oversized baggy tops for something snug and cute that gives me the major sensory ick, just because it would be more ladylike and my husband would prefer it?

I’m not sure about that. I think God expects us to do the best we can with what we’ve got. Psychological and emotional baggage is part of “what we’ve got.” Maybe I wasn’t born with this baggage, but it’s become a part of me, and now it is among the factors that I must take into consideration when deciding how to present myself. I think, if dressing a certain way is significantly uncomfortable for a person, they probably aren’t expected to dress that way (with some exceptions, of course, like, if someone is super uncomfortable wearing anything more modest than underwear, they should probably seek psychiatric treatment, as there are certain rules that simply must be observed: for example, women have to wear long dresses and cover their heads in church, whether they are comfortable or not – however, there are such a variety of headcoverings and materials to choose from that realistically everyone can find something that agrees with them). As long as we’re not being disrespectful and/or violating some basic societal convention, we probably have some leeway in how exactly we choose to dress. Especially under extenuating circumstances: if you’re sick, or just had a baby, or disabled and unable to keep up with self-care. God only expects us to do the best we can with what we’ve got.

So, maybe the trash bags can stay, as long as they’re clean and tidy and wrinkle-free.

But, would chopping all my hair off constitute a violation of societal convention? Would it be disrespectful? Would I be prioritizing a selfish desire (for comfort, for my own pleasure and relief) over my duty (to look feminine, to respect my husband’s preferences (because, come on, every straight man prefers long hair))?

Believe me! If I could have long hair, I would. I don’t want to rebel against the patriarchy. My hair is a travesty, at this point, and it’s not a thing of “beauty” by any stretch of the imagination — but would it be even worse if it were shorter? I’m on the fence.

Well, damn. I was hoping that writing all this out might help clarify the best course of action, but alas. I still can’t tell if the desire to chop is the old “revenge ugliness” urge coming up again, or if I honestly think it’d be for the best given my circumstances. — Or maybe just a little bit of revenge ugliness is acceptable, within certain parameters?