The other day I was getting my hair done. This is not something I do often, yet it was that time of the year again (haha yup, once a year). I didn’t know the hair dresser at all, and I could feel the snobby vibes in the room. No makeup on, with a stained shirt, I sat down in her chair ready to get a new do. After a little small talk to test one another’s waters, we began actually engaging. What did she enjoy? Did she have a family? She was kind enough, answering honestly, when she began to ask me questions. I told her what I do, about my boyfriend, about my life. In a kind enough observation, she said, “You are very type A. You are straight forward, get your stuff done and hold people to their shit. Good for you, I wish I was like that at your age.”
Folks, I have never been called “type A” nor have even ever pondered that possibility. Yes, she meant it as a compliment yet I sat frozen in her observation. I associate “type A” people to be uptight, career driven, attention to detail, scheduled, busy people. But oh wait, that fits me. What a bizarre realization it was. Sitting with foil in my hair, talking to a stranger, I had an explanation to why I felt so off for the past few months. I never lose my words or don’t know what to say, yet in that moment I sat, quiet with big eyes. Looking in the mirror I saw a different side of me that I had never seen.
No wonder why I have been interested in wearing sparkly makeup, lightening my hair, and wearing light colors. I have felt so heavy, yet naked of any authenticity. Now looking at my actions, it makes complete sense. I did what I thought I was "supposed" to do. Dressed in ways I deemed appropriate. I even COMBED MY HAIR!!!!!
That was two days ago. Since then, I have met with two very good friends that came to visit town, and I remember. I remember the girl with permanent dirt on her feet, makeup less big eyes, and all second hand clothes. I remember looking forward to adventure, diving into the unknown with a playful heart and glittery eyes. No, I am not nostalgic, but I know that is my best self. Not the Mandi from three years back, but the Mandi who dances to her own tune. Who does things that make zero sense to others yet vibrate with my frequency.
I feel the fire again. I see the wildness in my eyes. All my actions in the past few months make sense. And for all of this, I am grateful.
Maybe this is what life is all about? Losing our selves to find ourselves. I am not sure. But damn, it feels good to be trekking back home.
Folks, I have never been called “type A” nor have even ever pondered that possibility. Yes, she meant it as a compliment yet I sat frozen in her observation. I associate “type A” people to be uptight, career driven, attention to detail, scheduled, busy people. But oh wait, that fits me. What a bizarre realization it was. Sitting with foil in my hair, talking to a stranger, I had an explanation to why I felt so off for the past few months. I never lose my words or don’t know what to say, yet in that moment I sat, quiet with big eyes. Looking in the mirror I saw a different side of me that I had never seen.
No wonder why I have been interested in wearing sparkly makeup, lightening my hair, and wearing light colors. I have felt so heavy, yet naked of any authenticity. Now looking at my actions, it makes complete sense. I did what I thought I was "supposed" to do. Dressed in ways I deemed appropriate. I even COMBED MY HAIR!!!!!
That was two days ago. Since then, I have met with two very good friends that came to visit town, and I remember. I remember the girl with permanent dirt on her feet, makeup less big eyes, and all second hand clothes. I remember looking forward to adventure, diving into the unknown with a playful heart and glittery eyes. No, I am not nostalgic, but I know that is my best self. Not the Mandi from three years back, but the Mandi who dances to her own tune. Who does things that make zero sense to others yet vibrate with my frequency.
I feel the fire again. I see the wildness in my eyes. All my actions in the past few months make sense. And for all of this, I am grateful.
Maybe this is what life is all about? Losing our selves to find ourselves. I am not sure. But damn, it feels good to be trekking back home.
