“The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself…”
~ Jane Austen’s Emma
“Not too much off—just so it’s grazing my shoulders, please,” I said.
“Like hers?” she answered, gesturing at the stylist working two stations down.
“Perfect.”
I watched chunks of hair fall on the floor and knew that the only way my hair was going to reach my shoulders was if I tilted my head to one side and stretched a section as straight and tight as I could. Oh well, I’ll have the cut I asked for by Christmas.
So I have bad hair. It couldn’t come at a better time. I’ve been struggling with two things lately, pride and authenticity. My ugly, short hair is a symbol (I make everything a symbol), a reminder of what does and doesn’t matter.
Not many folks admit to the pride problem. I didn’t even know I had one, but bit by bit I’ve been shown. At the risk of coming off as about as endearing as the young heroine in the novel no one likes (the heroine, not the novel), I can get a pretty big head. I don’t like that about myself, so I’m asking for help to tackle this one from the inside out. That will beat trying to hide it.
Which brings me around to the second issue, authenticity. I like words like charm and poise and politeness and even self-possession. I like those words so much that sometimes I wonder if I’m exuding all style and no substance. Sometimes while I’m getting dressed for the day I pray, Please, God, make me a real girl, like Pinocchio begging the wood carver Geppetto. I’m looking for a shift from a focus on the way people see me. Instead I want to see them, an impossible feat without the “a” word.
I’m not saying I want to throw courtesy or appropriateness or even my natural reserve to the wind. And I don’t want to scratch the surface just to reveal, and to see in others, tarnish, although the bad comes with the good. But what if everyday interactions were transformed by more heart-to-heart and eye-to-eye? Wouldn’t that be a more interesting way to live? Will I scare people? It scares me a little.
The Spouse likes to (affectionately, of course) impersonate Reagan, and one of his favorites around here is, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.” I’d like to get into the tearing-down business.
And with my dear, deep, thick-or-thin friends, I’d like to be free to start a conversation with, “Guess what? I’m struggling with pride. What about you?” When it’s right, the inner censor has got to go. Why do I worry so much about every little word being judged? Is it because I can tend toward judging? They say liars are best at recognizing a lie.
It’s hard to fathom, but God is pretty fond of me. So why sweat over the opinion of someone I’ve just met? I’d at least like to downgrade to mere perspiration.
So I’m going to sport my new hairdo with a big smile, one that has nothing to do with showing off but everything to do with joy and peace and a genuine sense of glad-to-see-you. At least I’m going to try.
Thanks for the encouraging article!
Love you, Laura! You are a model of self-reflection. It’s a good exercise for all of us and I admire your honesty. That smile just might be the key to everybody’s troubles. Thanks for sharing!
If I looked as cute as you do with short hair, I wouldn’t have written this silly post. Thanks, Courtney. Love you!
It’s actually a really good looking hairdo. At least in my view, which, admittedly, doesn’t count for much. Even so, I am sorry you’re disappointed. Perhaps some sort of financial redress would make you feel better…
Um, don’t you think the financial redress would be making YOU feel better? Besides, you know I’m way to passive-aggressive to actually confront my stylist. I’ll just slink away quietly. Thanks for liking my hair,Luke. Of course your view matters, more than anyone’s.
Not a silly post at all Laura. I’d venture to say profound, even. It struck a chord. Those most precious to me, that God uses most, are the dear friends brave enough to let others see their struggles & fears. Intimacy has it’s roots there.