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25 February 2014 @ 07:46 pm
Hair and Personal Expression (Or, I still feel guilty, what's up with that?)  
I'm falling more in love with-- and at the same time getting more used to-- my hair every day. I'm actually able to see dark hair when I imagine myself now, whereas before I kept thinking it was still brown, so seeing my reflection and it not matching my "residual self image" (haha) was always a bit shocking, but now that's what I expect to see.

It's good to be able to look at myself and actually like what I see. The darker color makes my hair look greasier faster, so now I don't really have a choice but to wash it every day, but it looks great in waves, and beautiful in curls, and I love having this big dark cloud around me. Plus, anything that lets me look in the mirror and see a little Katie McGrath there is a good thing. (Also, I learned recently that Katie McGrath is a natural blonde, so the beautiful dark waves I've been envying are as genuine as mine.)

However, I'm still struggling with the occasional bout of weird guilt, mostly whenever I think of my mother's reaction. I still think she won't like it. Like I think she'll kind of mourn it; that she'll be sad that I don't look really nice in aqua blue anymore (not that I can really find anything I like in that color, unfortunately.), or that I don't look like the girl and woman she raised, that I don't look like her baby, or that I've removed the only part of me that really resembles her. I'm also kind of worried she'll maybe think I changed because I didn't like myself? (Not that anyone else is going to read this, but does this make any sense? Am I making sense?)

I'm not big on artificiality or fakeness. I'd rather be ugly and actually me than be "pretty" but fake. The idea of being attractive through artifice only, and becoming not only ugly but unrecognizable once my makeup was off is not one I'm interested in. (Although I've already made multiple alterations to my body before without any guilt or unease, they've been mostly permanent ones, and not intended to "change" my appearance, but rather to add to it, so I don't feel the same about them.) I'm also not big on feeling insecure in ones appearance to the point where you are unhappy unless you change it (Even though, when push comes to shove, I am VERY insecure about my body and have myriad things about it that I want to change, though my hair wasn't one of them.) And although on the one hand it's cool that people have the power to present themselves the way they want to be seen, I don't like seeing people get so wrapped up in changing themselves that they become totally committed to fakeness, and I especially don't like seeing people change because of pressure to be a certain way.

But I have no reason to feel guilty about this, because I didn't change my hair because I didn't like the original color, or because I felt pressured to, or because I felt insecure in myself. I did it because I was bored, because I needed to shake things up, because it seemed fun, because I've always romanticized dark hair, because I thought it would look nice, and most of all because I thought it matched better with who I am and how I feel on the inside.

Because most of my life is very, very internal ("My wars are" very much "laid away in books", though not in the way the author originally intended.) and sometimes it's stifling, and I just need a way of showing and living the inside-me on the outside. Since the chances of me being able to express that externally in any way (through discussion, or through interaction) usually means someone being interested enough in me to invite that and thus is like nil, my clothes and my appearance have sort of become a means of expressing my personality and my likes and my interests externally without being dependent on someone else's interest or invitation.

I did this for me, not for someone else, and I did to express myself and have fun. And I did it to follow through on my New Year's resolutions, to try new things and to do things that make me happy rather than just what seems sensible or responsible. I just need to remind myself of this the next time I'm assaulted by random pangs of guilt.
 
 
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