Friday, January 24

My Latest Fashion, Part One

The loud airy buzz of the dryer stopped. "Ready?" the salon owner asked.

"Most definitely."

She spun me around to look in the mirror. I don't know what exactly I had been expecting to see, but with the first glance at my reflection, I was glad to own being me.


I love long weekends because that extra day transforms an ordinary weekend into a stage of opportunities. Things I've long wanted to do suddenly have ample time. All I have to do is step up and risk being seen. What narrative shall I live this time?

I'd been thinking about it for a while, though 1) no one but my household knew and 2) it was drastic enough that it would likely surprise just about every single person I know. (Granted that was part of the attraction. I'm turning into such a rebel.) So, on Thursday, I called and made my appointment. I was going to risk surprising people and being seen. I had chosen something I wanted, because I wanted it, and followed through without further hemming and hawing. (Growth! More on this in a later post on the Enneagram.) ((Update: I snuck a mini post on the Enneagram inside this one which is now up.))

I got my very first ever pixie haircut.

A Christmas-time Before

At the salon, I was fearless. I finally had no serious sentimental attatchement to my hair. It had always been some form of long since I was little until very recently. My last short cut was a wavy, poofy bob. And that was more than a year ago. This time, my once again longer than shoulder length hair was going away. I wasn't going to regret it, even if I didn't like the look very much. I was ready. Ready for a change, ready to surprise, ready to not have hair fall into my face and mouth, or get caught by purse straps and puullll. But I hoped and thought I could like the new look.

Perhaps my reasons are part defiance, a challenge and an acknowledgement to myself that who I was is not who I am now, another step in getting settled in my new life and my braver me. Part experiment. I wasn't sure if it would work with my face, but I wanted to find out. And part devil-may-care. After all, why not? It's just hair. It will grow. And I figured if I wanted it, I could rock it

At the heart of it, I wanted to be me and seen as me, not what anybody says or expects I need to be. Whether I'll keep it pixie short or not, I don't know. It might not even matter. What matters most is I went after something I wanted for myself. I followed through.


"Do you like it?" she asked as I stared into the mirror, mouth agape.

"I like it a lot!"

I felt fabulous.

Stay tuned for My Latest Fashion, Part Two. The wardrobe.


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