Opening doors…

I woke up miserable yesterday, from a dream.

I felt like Phoebe, when she gets mad at Ross for something he did in a dream and can’t seem to forgive him for it.

But my Ross didn’t do anything in my dream, other than offer excuses, to which I offered my own.

After I woke, I made myself think of three things that I was happy about.

• It was Saturday
• I could sleep a little longer
• And I like my hair.

Wow, I thought.

I like my hair?

That’s been a long time coming.

I recently cut it, again.

You know how when you get a haircut you like, you can really only enjoy it for a few seconds because it grows out so fast?

It doesn’t take long to outgrow a cut, and my last jaw line cut was now closer to a shoulder shag.

I hunted the house for my masking tape meant for a cutting guide. I had two roles, somewhere.

I checked where they ought to be, gone.

“Ah screw it.” I thought as I grabbed chunks of hair between my fingers. Chop, chop, chop.

Done.

Okay, a little short. But cute!

Once my hair dried, my jaw line cut became an ear line cut, and now I look like a flapper from the twenties. I love it! Straight or curly.

Now surely that’s an achievement in self acceptance.

It got me thinking, about appearance.

That’s when it hit me, the only thing I feel any control over in my life as it is now, is the ability to direct my own appearance. When I think on that a little further, I realize that is how its almost always been.

I finally understood a chunk of the picture.

My weird and wonderful relationship to fashion, shoes, things that shines and sparkles. Center piece handbags, clogs of cork. My yearning for hats. All of this has a greater purpose…

Fashion is a door to self expression leading to greater self awareness.

Eureka!
Besides, the sense of control is simply illusion.