(for an explanation read “Lent pt. 1: the set up”)
Pre-Lent: So, on Tuesday I drove down to Chattanooga to visit my best friend and have one of his friends cut my hair. Hah, I wanted him there because I wasn’t sure if I had the cojones to actually cut my hair this short unless he was there.
Day 1: When I woke on Wednesday up there was a moment that felt like I had just woken from a bad dream in which I had cut off all my hair, and then I felt my hair and realized that it wasn’t a dream, I had actually done it. I drove back from Chattanooga with a little bit of trepidation, because I knew that when I got home I would have the “oh you got a hair cut” conversation with everyone that saw me. I went to the Ash Wednesday service, and the only thing I could focus on was me, and how naked I felt I couldn’t get out of my head, I couldn’t connect with anyone, I just thought about myself and how silly I must look – apparently it looks great, which causes me even more tension because I’m trying to let go of my vanity... and when someone’s like “you look great” I am just so confused on how to take it, so I just say “thank you”.
The tension that my hair has caused in me has surprised me greatly. I thought that cutting my hair off was going to alleviate some of the stress, but to be honest, it has been the stress. I’m sure by the time Easter rolls around I will be fully sick of black t-shirts and will want to wear lots of colourful clothing, but for right now I can only think of how little hair I have. An interesting side note, I am horribly afraid of becoming bald in my old age, it’s not in my genetics, but just the thought scares the crap out of me. So this is bringing up all those issues as well.
Pre-Lent: So, on Tuesday I drove down to Chattanooga to visit my best friend and have one of his friends cut my hair. Hah, I wanted him there because I wasn’t sure if I had the cojones to actually cut my hair this short unless he was there.
Day 1: When I woke on Wednesday up there was a moment that felt like I had just woken from a bad dream in which I had cut off all my hair, and then I felt my hair and realized that it wasn’t a dream, I had actually done it. I drove back from Chattanooga with a little bit of trepidation, because I knew that when I got home I would have the “oh you got a hair cut” conversation with everyone that saw me. I went to the Ash Wednesday service, and the only thing I could focus on was me, and how naked I felt I couldn’t get out of my head, I couldn’t connect with anyone, I just thought about myself and how silly I must look – apparently it looks great, which causes me even more tension because I’m trying to let go of my vanity... and when someone’s like “you look great” I am just so confused on how to take it, so I just say “thank you”.
The tension that my hair has caused in me has surprised me greatly. I thought that cutting my hair off was going to alleviate some of the stress, but to be honest, it has been the stress. I’m sure by the time Easter rolls around I will be fully sick of black t-shirts and will want to wear lots of colourful clothing, but for right now I can only think of how little hair I have. An interesting side note, I am horribly afraid of becoming bald in my old age, it’s not in my genetics, but just the thought scares the crap out of me. So this is bringing up all those issues as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment