Friday, January 22, 2010
Look! No Hair.
No hair makes me very happy. One friend who saw the new style said, "I have always wanted to do that. The freedom must be amazing."
Freedom? I suppose so. Reclaimed hours hairstyling, definitely.
Freedom was not the reason I shaved my head.
When my husband first shaved my head, yes, I said the words 'husband' and 'shaved-my-head in the same sentence, I looked in the mirror and smiled.
A real smile.
"Hi there," I said. "I look like me."
I looked more like me than ever before. And it felt good. To look like me felt really good.
I have looked like hairdressers' versions of me, of magazines' ideas or what me should be.
The real me has, well, evaded me.
Now I think I look like Tab. And lately, I like her. I really do.
Sometimes I wonder about my writing.
Does it look like me?
Or does it look like the sum of Noah Lukeman's 'The First Five Pages, and other such 'writerly' advise?
And I ask myself, "What is the point of writing a story that anyone could have written?
When I get my memoir looking like me, I'll know it's time to query it. I see a faint reflection, but I am not there yet.
What about you? What is the most you have ever looked like you? Do your words look like you?