As you may recall, I rocked out Adventure: Locks of Love in March of this year. I went for the full chop of over 10+ inches and embarked on life with a pixie cut. As channel David Bowie and sing Ch-ch-changes in my head, it has been fun to rock super short and a bit edge-y hair.With that being said, I have had some radical battles with the good ol’ ego. Most commonly in instances when people have mistaken me for a dude. I know, no big deal. But some times, when your head is down and you decided to rock a T-shirt and jeans that day and the waiter walks up to the table and says, “Hello sir, what can I get you ….errr … today? Shit sorry…” or the girl at the bar that saw me standing in front of my boyfriend and dancing a bit with his arms around me and I overhear her tap on his shoulder and say, “O M G, I am so proud of you guys! Way to go. My brother is gay and I just think it is awesome”, as he tries to shut her up before I hear her visual fail.
And usually, it is totally fine. I laugh it off and reach for my lip gloss.
But, what about when you are just a little too tired? Or, what about when you already had a hard enough time getting the hair in the back to stay down so you don’t look like a character out of Little Rascals? Or, when it happens twice in one day?
I step into this space questioning my choice to cut my hair, my choice of the more so androgynous outfit that day or check out my facial features and wonder if I really do look like a boy? I know, silly space to walk into. Definitely a wrong turn but the ego starts driving faster and faster and I just spiral down.
Been there before?
What do we do here? What do you do to bring yourself back to reality? How do we realize it is a simple mistake and nothing personal?
Nothing personal, unless you want it to be. Unless you want to stare in front of that mirror for a minute too long or throw on that extra layer of lip gloss shimmer…
Here it is: Words are powerful, my friends. However, I would like to take this moment to remind you, that YOU, yes you, have the power. You give the words power and you take it away. Oh yes, all you.
I can choose to hear the ‘sir’ as a simple mistake. I can choose to know that I don’t look like a boy and that some times, I feel like a rock star with my short hair. Fine, more often than not, I feel like a rock star. And, I can choose to say to myself “hey you, get over your vain self”, and laugh it off and be a freakin’ powerhouse – own the words!
Make the choice. It is all you. All you.