Last time I wrote I had a homework assignment for us all:
Give yourself a hug in front of the mirror and say nice things to yourself for 3 minutes.
Did you do it?!
Tell me you didn’t smile? At the very least maybe you smiled because you felt a little silly. If you didn’t do it yet, that’s okay. Maybe you need to sit with the idea first before you take the leap and remember that self- love comes in different forms.
I’m going to share a story of self-love from the other week. I have to give a shoutout to my friend Shawnee for making me see it.
Let’s talk about hair.
You might be thinking- really, this is what you are going to talk about for this post? Self-love and hair? Yes, yes I am. For me, there has been a lot wrapped in my hair. Let me explain.
My mom would cut our hair and was not gentle about haircuts or styling hair. I don’t mean just when there was one of those bird’s nests of a knot in your hair, I mean always. Lots of pulling and tight buns. My head always hurt and the haircut or style was rarely my choice. One thing was always guaranteed, tears.
Skip to high school. My parents were going through a nasty divorce, my mom wasn’t around, and there wasn’t much money for food, let alone cosmetics for a teen. I found solstice in my girlfriends. Which fortunately and unfortunately meant box dying kits and me doing whatever color they thought I should do. I didn’t know what looked good on me - I couldn’t trust myself to make that kind of decision because that trust had been broken many years prior. Oh, the many colors I had.
Then there was my first boyfriend in high school/college and once again, he liked my hair long and dark and so it went. My hair was long and dark.
Couple more years go by and I start developing psoriasis. One of the places I had a major inflammation was on my scalp which made my hair fall out in clumps so I was forced to cut my hair SHORT and couldn’t color it.
On life goes, I break up with my long-term boyfriend at the time, still struggling with my psoriasis, and I move in with some family and once again, let someone dictate my hair color and style. My hair color essentially matched another person. It was never what I wanted and it never felt like me.
Here we go, Peace Corps in Ukraine! I thought, this would be my chance. I would get the color and style I wanted. First attempt, orange. GARFIELD ORANGE. For the love of god, how is this happening? And no, I don’t have a picture. Maybe I do but I can’t bring myself to share it.
Now ... 7 inches shorter and a little brighter ... This is me, for me.