A simple haircut?
A/N: okay so this is kinda random, but it made sense when I first started writing. For context, this is set between season 2 and season 3 and is Hanna's thought process before she goes and gets her hair cut. The story ended up being very different to how I thought it would be. I myself have had long hair for as long as I remember and just made the decision to cut it off and to be honest, my whole attitude and what not have totally changed, almost instantly – and I haven't even gotten my hair cut yet. So it was meant to be a light and fluffy oneshot but it ended up being much deeper than I anticipated. I'm still not sure about how I feel writing from Hanna's perspective – I don't think I've gotten her 'just right' yet.
Reflects a great deal on Hanna's past issues with bulimia, so if you're not keen on reading anything that touches on that, I wouldn't read it.
I stared in my mirror as I tried to make something of the mess that was my hair. Long, beautiful blonde hair had been my thing for as long as I could remember. Sure, I had other features that were … attractive, but my hair was still my crowning glory, so to speak.
When I was 'Hefty Hanna', my hair was all I had going for me, or so I thought. I didn't style my hair as much as other girls my age did, but it was always there; golden and flowing, it drew the attention away from the flab. I usually just let it hang, parted simply in the middle. Sure, it was boring but reassuring. I always had the option of doing something more with it.
When Ali and I became friends, she was always trying to get me to do more with my hair. Ali had beautiful hair and spent hours washing, styling and checking her hair to make sure it was perfect. That was Ali all over though. For her, it was always about the little details. Everything had to be just right for her, and nothing was left to chance. I did what I could to impress my new friend at the beginning, doing everything Ali said, but eventually my old habits returned.
Being friends with Ali hurt. It was worth it, Ali made sure of it, but it was painful to be close to her. It was Ali that had started calling me 'Hefty Hanna', and she had only starting calling me the cruel name when we were friends. As much as I had wanted to be beautiful like Ali, styling her hair so it was just right, I soon lost interest; what was the point of making your hair pretty if you were too fat to be pretty anyway?
It had seemed to make sense at the time. Ali was just trying to help me, wasn't she? After all, before I became friends with Ali, I hadn't realised that I was big. I suppose it takes a real friend to tell you that sort of thing. When Ali first started calling me Hefty Hanna I had tried to cut down on fizzy drinks and snacks, but the more Ali teased, the more it hurt. The more it hurt, the harder it was to stay away from snacks. Eventually, it was just easier to go back to how things were before. It's not like I wasn't still fat.
I suppose it didn't help that dad left in the middle of all of this. It shouldn't have been a real surprise; dad hadn't really been around much in the year before he left. I just figured it was for work; he had always had heaps of business trips, and I hadn't noticed anything different. Why would I? I was practically a kid, and he always had presents when he returned. When he left, only a month or so before Ali disappeared, my life fell apart. I hadn't known about the other woman. Apparently the parentals figured it would hurt less if I didn't know. They were wrong. When he left, I assumed the worst and figured that it was me. I remember one night, not long after he had left, that I stood in front of the mirror. I was chubby. It wasn't just my body either – I had three chins. I just looked gross. My eyes fell on a photo of me as a kid, and that was when I figured he had left because he was ashamed of me. I was once a cute little kid with two long braids, but now I was just a big giant lump with boring long hair. Why wouldn't he leave?
I had tried to lose weight before. It hadn't worked. I knew I could work really hard, and eat healthily, but I just didn't have the energy, especially if it wouldn't work. I had to try something though, so I figured I had to start with my hair. And Ali was the person who could help me with that.
When I asked Ali if she could help me with my hair, she was really nice. I was glad that she was being so nice about it, and I lapped up all the help I could get. She showed me how to curl my hair and told me what products were the right ones to use. She even offered to help me with makeup. I was lucky to have a friend like Alison. That's not to say she was any nicer, but it made me feel special, and that is what I needed at the time.
Alison offered to help me with more than just my hair. She told me that she had seen older girls at school lose weight quickly, and she told me how they did it. It wasn't exercise, and it wasn't healthy eating. I was sceptical at first, but when she told me it meant I wouldn't have to give up my precious snacks, it seemed like a good idea. Ali encouraged me that first time and held my hair. It felt awful, but I was glad that my friend was there to hold my hair. She told me it would get better, and I didn't give that a second thought. Now I know that Ali had lots of secrets, and maybe this was just another one of them. I suppose it is something that I will never know.
Then Ali disappeared. Until then, I wasn't sold on using Ali's tricks for my hair. It made me feel silly. When Ali had helped me do my hair, I felt a little less ugly and just pretty enough. Once Ali was gone, I just felt like I was trying to be just like her. I don't think I made the connection until Wilden had noticed I started styling my hair like Ali when he cornered me at school after her body was found. It just… it just felt strange. After a while it just made sense. It made me feel like I was keeping a part of her friend alive.
Even though I had sworn that I wouldn't be following Alison's weight loss advice, I couldn't help it. I had felt awful at first, but it was definitely making a difference. After doing it a few times, I felt guilty and swore it was the last time. It wasn't, but I did make other changes. I started exercising, and I tried to eat healthily. My mom didn't really say anything, but she didn't really know what to say to me most of the time after Ali went missing. The other changes help. It wasn't long until I could look at myself in the mirror and didn't automatically cringe. As much as I hated to admit it, Ali's advice helped. I didn't do it all the time, only when I binged. I didn't have a problem. Or at least, I didn't think I did.
When I think about my transformation, it really was thanks to Ali. It wasn't her advice about how to lose weight, or at least, I didn't think it was. It was her help with styling my hair. After she showed me how to make my hair look good, I started to realise that I could be pretty. Ali's help with my hair made me realise that I didn't have to be 'Hefty Hanna' forever.
Once I transformed, I became someone. I wasn't that invisible chubby girl in the corner anymore; I was the centre of attention, and that made me feel special. As much as I like to think that I would have become popular and well liked, a real someone, without my long hair, I sort of doubt it. It seems silly, but if Ali hadn't of helped me with my hair, I wouldn't have lost weight, and if I hadn't lost weight, I wouldn't have changed.
I blinked, snapping back to the present. All of that… stuff was in the past. My hair, it had always seemed to be my best asset. It was why I became me. And that was the problem.
Without Ali's help, I wouldn't have become Hanna Marin, Queen Bee of Rosewood High. With everything that happened with Mona over the past year, I can't help but think that if Mona and I had stayed the same losers we were before, that Mona would never have become A.
Mona's acts over the past year have changed me. There are the obvious physical changes, namely the leg and ankle I broke and the spleen that was damaged. The bones healed and the spleen got as close to normal as possible, but there were some scars that wouldn't fade, not to mention the pain I faced after wearing super high heels for a few hours. I would never be the same again, thanks to Mona. It wasn't just me either. Mona ruined Emily's chances of a decent scholarship with the steroids, not to mention any damage that any stray steroids did to me (can anyone say ew?). Aria's fractured family was more proof of Mona's trouble. Spencer hadn't fared so well either and it could have easily been her that fell, instead of Mona.
She stole money from my mom. My mom may have 'borrowed' it in the first place, but it didn't make it right for Mona to take it.
There is the emotional damage too. When I got a message from A, I was convinced that Ali was back. I wanted nothing more than for her to see me as the skinny popular girl. When Mona sent me that message on the day of Ali's funeral, it really hurt. For a year, near daily reminders that my best friend was dead arrived in my inbox. She made me relive the lowest point of my life, making me binge for money. She ruined my relationship with Shaun. She messed with Caleb. She framed us for murder.
She made me the sort of person who jumps at her own shadow.
I picked up my brush and ran it through my long, blonde hair. As much as Mona has been my friend, she tortured me for a year. I'd like to think that it was a series of unfortunate events that led to Mona's psychotic break and double life, I can't help but think Mona would always have become who she became. I can't help but think that Mona was always going to break.
So while I know that our transformations really didn't lead to Mona becoming A, I don't want to be that girl anymore. Long, blonde hair and super popular; sure it sounds like a dream. It's been more of a nightmare.
I just want to wake up.
I love feedback, especially with this sort of thing where I'm confused and unsure about my characterisation.