I dyed my hair.
Maybe I’m thinking way too deeply about this, but I feel like it’s a really symbolic situation.
See, my hair has been blonde since I was born, blonde is my comfort zone. I’ve slunk through life, not challenging myself. I thought that if I stepped out and did things that scared me or liked the things I wanted to like, I’d be gaining attention, and attention scares me to death.
So when I made a split second decision to go red and ran out to buy some Clairol Red Hot; sat down on my grandma’s antique kitchen stool and felt my sisters slather my hair with dye, I was a little nervous. (Mainly because my hairstylist told me not to dye my hair red, and I am not generally a rebellious person.)
Then one of my sisters looked at my bright orange head and told me, “Margaret, you never would’ve done this a year ago,” and she was 100% correct. A year ago, red hair was a “yeah right, maybe someday when I’ve brave” idea. It was just was too huge of a commitment.
What if I change my mind? What if it looks bad? What if it’s too bold? What if people don’t like it?
But for once, when I looked at the dye soaking into my hair, I realized that I wasn’t scared. I knew that I was a different person from the doubtful girl I was a year ago.
I’ve learned that it’s kind of fun to do the thin
gs that scare you. Facing my fears in the past year has given me the power to quiet my doubts. And when I looked in the mirror and saw my new hair, I didn’t feel anxious anymore, I felt brave.
Like I said, probably reading into it way too much, but there’s my deep thought for the day.