This is a post about my hair. And something a little more than that.
My hair looked like this yesterday.
I don’t often curl it. With the exception of the times I was a bridesmaid, a curling iron hadn’t touched my hair in years until last summer, when I thought to give it a try. I’ve curled it just a handful of times since then. I got the idea to try it after seeing Christy Nockels at Hearts at Home last year and realized that I have a major crush on her hair (she happens to have a beautiful voice, too). Plus, it reminded me that I used to have hair like that.
So my decision was: a. wash and blowdry and straighten my hair, like always, or b. don’t wash my hair and curl it instead. Option b sounded easier, so I went with it. And for some reason, as I started doing it, I turned into a 15-year-old girl. Filled with doubt about how my hair was making me look. Was it too big? Too different than I usually wear it?
One of the things that I’ve truly loved about getting older is that I’m just so much more sure of myself and who I am now. I’m much more aware of what I’m good at, more comfortable with how I look, and I know my own shortcomings. All things that should lead me to not really care too much about what my hair looks like. And also lead me to realize that I have been given an abundance of hair that reacts well to a curling iron, and thus straightening it into submission all the days of my life maybe isn’t the greatest idea I’ve ever had.
But, I am a girl. A girl who lives in a society that is crazy-obsessed with how we look. I mean, we even decide what kind of day we’re going to have based on our hair, and coined a phrase to go along with it.
My first reaction to this emotion was to laugh…I mean, who am I trying to impress? The captain of the basketball team? ‘Cause I don’t know if he goes to our church, and even if he does, I’m old enough to be his mom. Truthfully, it was more of a “what will other girls think of it” kind of thought. In which case, I need to reread for myself that paragraph I just wrote about knowing who I am. Because I shouldn’t care what they think.
My second reaction was more biblical, insightful. (And thus, obviously, did not come from me…I mean, c’mon, I’m 33 years old and worried about my HAIR). I think that doubt is a tool that Satan likes to use to get us to think less of ourselves, and to be less than we were created to be. When you start to doubt who you are, it’s easy to be discouraged and not live up to your potential, right?
And I think that I’ve been created to do more than worry about what people think of my hair. So really, I’m thankful for those moments yesterday morning, when I was really lacking in self-confidence, because it reminded me of more important things which are actually deserving of my focus.
PS…I’m still wearing my hair curly today. And I like it.