A Bad Haircut

Ever had a bad haircut?  I mean a BAD haircut.   I have.  As a woman, it can be emotionally devastating.

 

This haircut isn't that bad.  It's not my hairdresser's fault.  I pretty much got exactly what I asked for.

 

More or less.

 

It's a long story.   I wanted to embrace my natural color...which includes a great deal of gray and some other color I'm unfamiliar with.   My plan was to grow out my roots until I couldn't take it anymore then go shorter, removing as much of the fake blonde as I could.  Then my natural color would take over and I could grow my hair back out.  Easy. Peasy.

 

In theory.

 

The cut I was going for...

In truth, here's what happened: I couldn't take the roots anymore.   Called my hairdresser.  Show her a picture of the adorable pixie haircut and told her my plan. 

 

Her suggestion was to put some shades in my blonde to blend the roots out and not have a drastic blonde/dark line.  Sounds good.

 

It turned out cute...but drastically different than what I had been just 90 minutes prior.  I was ok with it. 

 

Sort of.

 

I was greeted with a deluge of questions: what made you do it? Does Randy like it? And my favorite: Do YOU like it?

 

I know what the means. 

 

The icing on my cake was when my 19 year old son arrived at my house and stopped short in his tracks when he saw me.

 

"What the ______ did you do to your hair?"

 

I wanted to cry.  My husband teased.  My youngest teased... I was mortified. I messaged my hairdresser.   Help!!

 

Round two was bleach, to lift the darker brown.  I asked for platinum.   I got strawberry.   Not her fault.  I hate it.

 

I can't stand seeing myself in the mirror.  Which is different.  Not that I've ever been terribly vain, but I was ok with how I looked.  Until now.

 

Was this the thorn in Pauls flesh?  Is this the thing he mentioned in 2 Corinthians 12:7 that was a messenger from Satan to keep him from becoming conceited?   A bad haircut?   It sure has a way of humbling a proud heart. 

"...Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me."

 

With tears in my eyes this evening,  I looked at my pitiful reflection and thought, "two weeks ago I was beautiful. "

 

How does a bad haircut make me feel suddenly heavier?  How long will it take me to grow this out?  How many times will I have to sit in that rotating black chair that jerks me up and down without mercy?  How can I hide in my house for the next two weeks?  I know this is temporary,  but how temporary...I don't know.

 

My heart aches, all at once, for every woman who has ever felt this way...especially those who have felt it so long that they have forgotten what it's like to feel pretty.  I can't imagine how defeating it would be to feel this awful and not have a light at the of the tunnel to focus on. 

 

One thing I am learning through this painful process is that love can't be based on the exterior appearance, whether it's the way someone else loves you or the way YOU LOVE YOURSELF.

All that matters is what's on the inside.  I've always thought this to be true.  It's one of the reasons that Shallow Hal is one of my favorite movies. Hal had a gift (curse) of being able to see people as they were on the inside.  It's worth watching.  

 

Now is a time when I hope that others will see me for what's on the inside.  I pray they're seeing my heart that loves Jesus and loves others and wants to serve.  I pray they can get past the orangey-blonde pixie cut that makes me hang my head and pout. 

 

 I feel so shallow for having confessed this to you.  But I know you're women who understand.  The journey to self-acceptance and self-approval can be a challenging one, full of detours and slippery slopes.  It's nice to know I'm not on this road alone. 

 

Be blessed!