hair

by willeya

the first time i was in counseling the way i knew i was making progress is when i started to really like my hair.  i remember sitting barefoot and cross-legged in a leather chair meant to be proper, waving my hands, feeling all free, talking about my hair.  how it fits that it’s dark and wild and curly because the truest part of me is beautifully unruly.  my male counselor probably thought i was a feet stinking loonie but in that moment i was unaware of him, just tapped into me.  as i talked, i liked my hair more and more.

i liked me more and more.

i wonder if that’s how it goes for most women because i swear i just spent the last hour talking to me four years ago.  she said the exact. same. words. about her hair, connecting it to herself, and feeling like it’s all coming together.   she used to straighten it but now she likes herself better the way she is.

besides me and besides her, i have heard other women say this, that their hair somehow reflects their true self and that settling into one’s self and into one’s hair is really the same thing.  all of these women that i am thinking of have curly hair, so maybe it’s something to do with that.  we live in a world that wants to straighten us out, tell us we need to be something different than we are to be beautiful.

speaking of hair, i just keep cutting mine. some days i like it:

other days i am a male lego with detachable helmet hair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

on these days it’s hard for me to go outside, much less feel at one with myself.  maybe that just negated the point of my whole post or shows that i am deep down not ok with myself but i don’t think so.   i think it’s a both/and.  the more i am ok with the parts of me i do know the more i am able to take risks to discover the parts of me that i don’t – to push to the edge of things like hair to find the uncharted me that lives at the brink.

{and Thank You God that hair grows back}

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