Snip

Sometimes I feel like I belong onboard the Nebuchadnezzar with Trinity, Tank, Morpheus, and Neo.  Other times I feel super shaman-y (whatever that means), or sexy, or cute, or old and crone-ish.  Most of the time, 99.25% of the time, I feel closer to the essential me.  

What the feck am I talking about anyway?

My hair.  Or my lack of hair.

Like a bunch of other women out there, I shaved my head sometime last spring at the beginning of the GREAT PLAGUE of 2020.  I'd wanted to do it for a long time, and I'd had short and then shorter hair for years, but I held back. For lots of reasons -  

    • I'm too old.
    • My head isn't the right shape.
    • My face is all wrong.
    • I'm too scared.
    • What will people think?
    • Why can't I just be normal?
And then...

Pandemia.  Shelter at Home.

YES!!!!!

When I did it...or actually, when my partner did it (with a beard cutter), I thought I had at least a month before I would have to go back to work face-to-face. I figured that was long enough to sow my wild oats and also long enough to not look completely ridiculous by the time I was back in the group room with clients.  

A couple weeks went by.  Then a month, and now it's been a YEAR.  I'm still working from home, and if I have anything to say about it, I'll keep working from home - wherever home ends up being.

And I'll probably keep shaving my head.

I've gone through phases with it.  I've worn a lot of hats - in meetings on Zoom and around the house.  Hats keep a shorn head warm, but hats also hide things. They're like makeup for your head. I've tried scarves. I've gone bare and felt good about it. I've gone bare and felt weird about it. I've gone bare and felt, well, neutral about it.

This most recent snip feels different. It feels, permanent. I see my face. I almost see my soul. Honestlyl. I FEEL...

Me.

I'm 51.  I've had an age issue for a long time.  The "am I too old for this?" question plagued me about a lot of things. Hair too. Or no Hair too.

Somehow it feels like my age issue got snipped off the last time Steve snipped my hair.  Not only did my age issue fall onto our kitchen floor and get vacuumed up, my whole attitude about my age seemed to flip over.  I felt...

Free.  

Like. Fuck it. Honestly. I'm over the damn hill. I don't need to climb up the steep side of social norms if I don't want to. Besides, I'm nearing that magical age when women become invisible. Why not just do and be and live the way I want to NOW.  Before I die.

So snip snip snip.  

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