Working it. Owning it.
So I cut my hair off. Which shouldn’t be deserving of it’s own blog post (especially the only one I have written in almost a year, yikes!) but this wasn’t any ordinary haircut. Most women would make an appointment at a salon, choose a few ideas on Pinterest, etc. My haircut was done by myself with some kitchen shears in the bathroom sink like I was on the run while simultaneously plucking out my eyelash extensions. Breakdown right? Perhaps, or maybe not. (My hair has since been cut and colored by a professional prior to taking these photos, the homeless scraggly look IS actually what I am going for…)
What the heck?
I suffer from social anxiety, that really surprises a lot of people since I can usually compose myself well with strangers- but it is all too real. Fake it til you make it. When I meet new people, I am overly criticizing the way I look, act, and my facial expressions. I lose track of what I want to say and often break into hives on my neck and chest when nervous. Frannie used to always ‘joke’ that I needed to make sure to wear my scarves when going into consultations with potential new clients, but she was totally right. When I have too many social situations in a row, I have to counteract them with reclusive downtime. I am a total homebody, and could certainly live most of my life with barely any social interaction with the outside world. I could, and do, live this way most of the time.
Another thing- I have always had issues with my weight. I can remember dieting and doing aerobics tapes as early as 8 years old, which in retrospect-is nuts, but such a huge part of who I am now. It is something that I have always been obsessed with and have let control me. I gained quite a bit of extra weight from my pregnancy (I hit 200 by the time I delivered- swollen and miserable) and then after I gave birth, I got to keep a pretty big majority of it for quite a long time… plus the stretch marks that extend the whole length of my belly. Along with postpartum hormones, I was blessed with a huge amount of my hair falling out, especially around my forehead like a legit, old man receding hairline…little blessings! When you feel like a balding tub of lard who has no time for yourself, the most obvious thing to do is to get hair and eyelash extensions to camouflage your insecurities, right? In my case: yes, and many spray tans.
Becoming a mom has made me REALER than I’ve ever been, even though I was definitely the fakest. Feeling like hot garbage can bring out out some major revelations, especially when no matter how terrible you look or feel- you still have a grinning little boy who wants to stare at you like the prettiest most wonderful thing they have ever seen. It kind of just makes you not give a crap about anything else! I have a newfound confidence and I feel more like ‘myself’ than I ever have. Benson has forced me to be more outgoing, to actually need time outside the house, and to enrich myself in moments and people. I feel like I have found my personal style and feel “ok” in what is leftover of my imperfect, damaged body. Not to say I won’t ever go back to gluing wefts of mermaid hair on my head or having individual eyelashes glued to every lash; for right now, I need less.
I need less, like immediately, in the bathroom sink.