Okay, I've half-way thru' my goal of finding something I like about myself every day for a week, and I have to say, it's getting a bit tough. I did all the easy ones first. Now I'm on the ones that make me think, where I have to ponder why I like or dislike something.
Sunday is the only day of the week I wear make-up, mainly so I won't look so tired at church. And it's the one day I spend more than 3 minutes on my hair. I like my hair, I just don't spend a lot of time on it.
I used to have fairly straight hair, and it's always been a wishy-washy sort of blond. I wore it long most of my life, and it was always up and off my face. Pigtails were a staple in my younger years, barrettes or long ponytails when I was in high school. As a new mom, I discovered the wonder of headbands, and wore them for years, no matter what the length of my hair. I wore a long brain down my back for close to a decade. And I've had gray hair since my youngest was in school. I always tease him that the grays and the homework melt-downs came at the same time. And it continues to get grayer every year.
But a couple of years ago, I got a severe infection after a surgical procedure, and in the 6 months that I was on antibiotics, I lost about 75% of my hair. Yes, even for me, who thought she didn't care much about what she looked like, this was very hard to handle. No matter what I did to it, or how I wore it, you could tell how thin it was, and my scalp showed through.
Finally, after a year, six months off the meds, it came back. And boy, what a difference! Yes, the gray is still there, but my hair has texture now, almost has curls, has a mind of it's own. Many days I just comb it back while it's still damp, maybe I contort my body so I can dry the roots with a bit of gel slicked in. I've always got a pin or two in to keep it off my face, because my front hair is so heavy it wants to hang down straight. And right now, I have rust and golden streaks in the front sections. But you can still see the gray, because I've earned it!
I get more compliments on my hair than any other part of my body. So something that I once pretty much ignored after I had it pushed back has become a bigger part of me, something I'm 'known' for. And for me, this is a lesson. There always seems to be a body part that we don't really care for on ourselves, that other people wish they had. I've read that some models don't like their feet, or feel their eyes are too far apart. I rue my arthritic knees and the fact that my stomach hangs down a bit. Yet I can walk, and if nothing else, my tummy shows I can afford to eat.
So every morning, when I'm bent over with the blow-dryer, trying to make some sense out of my hair, I send up a little prayer of thanks that I have hair. It may sound vain, but I have done without, even for a short time, so I'm thankful for what I have. Especially when my hair cooperates...