Stripping Away

The year I lost my hair was a year of stripping away. Those were the words that kept bouncing around in my brain that year. I felt like I was being stripped down, laid bare of everything that might falsely promise a sense of identity-in-beauty. Not only did I lose my hair, but that same year I lost the diamond ring my husband had proposed with. It quietly slipped off my hand one winter night, when my fingers were shrunken down from the cold. I suppose my fingers were also thin because I was newly diagnosed with gluten intolerance. So I was losing weight, losing hair, and losing my bling.

Talk about feeling ugly.

I'm sorry to say it, but I did. I looked in the mirror and saw a stringy-headed, bony shell of a woman who was grouchy at the loss of all her favorite comfort foods and terrified that she would always look sick.

But then I embraced it.

My therapist calls this "radical acceptance". I got up on Sunday at church and, while I was leading the music-as-worship time, I encouraged people to look to God as the faithful restorer of everything that has been stripped away.

And I actually believed it. Not that God would restore my hair or my ring, but that He would restore my sense of health and beauty from the inside, not by anything external that could so easily be lost.

Since then I have been feeling more and more...let's see, what's the opposite of stripped away...adorned, I guess. I have been growing into my new style (I call it "Urban", but it's basically head scarves and big earrings), and last summer my husband gave me a new diamond ring. I have been exercising a bit, and even though I'm still trying to figure out my diet, I feel good about my weight (meaning I don't think I'm too skinny anymore).

But now I feel like another season of being "stripped away" might be coming on.

For one thing, I recently did a photo shoot bald (stay tuned for pictures of this Great Unveiling soon!). I have been getting more and annoyed, or maybe just bored, with my scarves.

I also lost another ring. Nothing nearly as important as my diamonds, but a ring that was making me feel extra sparkly.

Weirdest of all, over the past year I have suddenly developed an allergic reaction to the jewelry and fabrics I have been wearing for years. When I wear certain necklaces now, I get this itchy red rash on the back of my neck. And, as of last week, when I wear long earrings and they happen to brush against my neck, I get an itchy spot. My arms are reacting to wool sweaters. My head is getting splotchy from my scarves. I can't do wigs at all anymore. I have a couple funky ones for going out, but it's not worth the irritation anymore. My eyes also get itchy and sore from my eye makeup.

I'm not sure how I feel about this happening now. I sometimes think, erroneously, that I'm being punished for being too vain. I know, it's a crazy thought. God don't roll like that. ;)

But I do feel a little like petulantly stomping my foot and saying "It's not fair!" Isn't the hair loss enough? And the gluten allergy? Why do I also have to stop wearing jewelry and makeup? I feel like I have earned the right to adorn myself more than I used to. These adornments give me confidence and make me feel feminine. If I can't have those, what will I have?

Maybe there's something environmental going on that I can fix. Maybe it's stress. Maybe I need to work harder on my diet. I don't know. But for now, I am feeling like some layers are getting peeled off again, and I have to find the beauty in this new simplicity before I get resentful.

Sometimes the outer distractions need to be stripped away in order to find the true gem at the center.

("Stripping Away the Layers" from http://trubluecrafts.blogspot.com/)

Dolls Going Bald

For all of you who have been watching out for the bald Barbie, apparently there is some competition to see who can do bald better:

That's right, da Bratz are going bald! This is, of course, for cancer awareness...but as an alopecian I'm loving this new trend (click here for more info on the Bratz unveiling).

Now, I know this is a money-making gimmick, but the motive will not change the outcome: little girls and boys are going to be seeing bald heads on the shelves and they are going to be wanting one.

You may have your own thoughts about whether this whole thing is helpful, or right, or important at all, but I guess my feeling is that bald Barbies and Bratz dolls are going to start a trend where female baldness is normalized and de-stigmatized, at least somewhat. I still have issues with the amount of makeup these dolls have on, and their figures, but at least they are projecting an image of feminine beauty that does not revolve around hair.

Your thoughts?

And the winner is...

You gotta love Yahoo! Always a source of interesting news. Today there was a video on the home page (click here to see it) that promised to reveal the face of the most naturally beautiful woman in a contest held in London.

Here she is, Florence Colgate:

She's 18, and yes--she is really beautiful. The rules for the contest stated that the models could not be wearing any makeup, nor could they have had any plastic surgery. The reporter then went on to describe the ancient Greek idea that symmetry in the face is highly desirable. The more symmetrical the face, the more beautiful it appears.

Before I talk about symmetry, let me get a few things off my chest about the video:
*Is she wearing makeup in the interview and in all the other photo shots we see of her, besides the ones for the contest?
*If so, aren't we getting some conflicting ideas about beauty? Or maybe the makeup was just to define her face more for the TV cameras?
*Do you think the blonde hair had any effect on the judges' evaluation of her face?

Having asked those questions, let me be clear--the girl is stinkin' adorable. She seems humble and is cute in every way, no argument from me.

But I do wonder about the nature of this contest. Who determines natural beauty, how, and why? I, for one, agree that there is beauty in symmetry...but there is also beauty in the quirky crookedness so many of us flawed humans possess. The right side of my nose goes up higher than the left side when I smile. And I hate it. But why should I? Am I genetically programmed to appreciate symmetry for some evolutionary reason? Or was symmetry in art associated with heavenly perfection, thereby linking symmetrical faces with perfect beauty?

Now for the real question--why was this contest even held in the first place? It's like we can never be satisfied with the current stock images of beauty. We are always on the lookout for "true" beauty. That's telling. We are obviously meant to appreciate beauty. The problem is, we all possess it. And when only one or two types of beauty are broadcast, we fail to see our own.

I'd like to have a contest. I'd like to ask people to submit pictures that capture a moment when they feel the most appreciation for themselves. The contest would be to find the most contented person. I would love to see the entries: photos with and without makeup, maybe with and without clothes (yikes!), with and without hair, at rest, in action, with loved ones, enjoying solitude, working, eating, purchasing, being bold, being comfortable, etc.

Anyway, food for thought. Let me know what you think of the video, the notion of symmetry being beautiful, the contest, etc.

I've Been (un)Framed!

The Mona Lisa. Pretty much everywhere, this painting is considered to be one of the world's most beautiful. Or is it just the most famous? Well, don't quote me either way I guess.

Anyway, the point I would like to make has nothing to do with this particular painting. It's just the first one that comes up on a Google search.

But do take a minute to reacquaint yourself with this masterpiece. What stands out to you? What appeals to you? I like the reddish, winding road in the background. I also love the way her hair and veil frame her face. That defined contrast between her smooth skin and the dark curls is really pleasing to my eyes.

In looking at the painting as a whole though, I'm not sure anything really strikes me. I can appreciate its beauty by letting my eyes wander around and notice each element, then coming back to a less focused gaze again to admire how everything comes together.

Now look again:



Now what do you notice? Personally, I find myself fixed on her eyes this time. Why? I think it's the frame. The frame is so confining that my eyes don't wander as much. I take in the whole painting more easily with the frame in my peripheral vision.

Does the frame add to, or take away from, the intrinsic qualities of the painting? Of course not. And here we may find ourselves on either side of a minor debate: is the frame part of the beauty of the painting, or not? Certainly the choice of frame has an impact on the viewer's experience of a painting or photograph. Even more, the fact that there even is a frame affects the viewer, as opposed to a canvas with no frame.

I don't know which I prefer. I'm sure it depends on the painting. I guess I tend to prefer the finished look of a frame.

Have you guessed where I'm going with this? Yes, that's right--hair, as always. Hair is the perfect natural frame for a person's face. I'm talking about hair on the head, eyebrows and, to a point, eyelashes. These work together to create beautiful frames of individual, unique value to every person's face.

Ideally.

What happens when you lose your frame? Or it gets discolored, or gets cracked? Not to treat you like a bunch of kindergarten kids, but it doesn't change the quality of what's on the canvas, the beautiful features positioned on varying skin tones. Admittedly, some features may be enhanced when the frame of hair is present. But realistically, how many faces have you seen without any kind of frame? Do any of us ever get the chance to decide whether we like the canvas as it is better than with a frame, or vise-versa?

Some of us do!

Having the choice to frame my face (or not) has made me think about why I make the choices I do. Why do I wear long scarves that can drape over my shoulder? Why do I insist on wearing eyeliner and drawing on eyebrows at ALL times (yes, I even took time to get them on before I went to the hospital when I was in labor with my son)? Why do I feel so bad about my face until I get those framing signposts on? My eyes are the same with or without makeup, and yet they look drastically different--different enough that I carry eyeliner in my purse and do my eye makeup FIRST thing in the morning (especially when I'm sleeping at someone else's house or have guests in mine). I assume people will appreciate seeing me "framed" as opposed to completely washed clean.

Why is that? Why have women been painting themselves for so long? I mean, this goes back to ancient times, y'all. Why did we decide that we needed makeup on our faces in order to bring out our "beauty" even more? Obviously this is not true in all cultures. But it's true in a lot of them. Maybe.

I think part of why I draw on eyebrows is to appear healthy. Beautiful or not, the presence of eyebrows means the body (or at least the face) is as it should be. I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable around me, so I try to make myself look like the other paintings they've seen so far.

The eyeliner? That's just vanity. I think I have pretty eyes, but for some reason I only think they're pretty with makeup. I think there's truth to the assertion, if anyone has made it, that hair on the head and face is universally attractive, if only for the reason that it signifies good health. But I also think that we are simply used to seeing paintings with frames on them. Anything else seems unfinished or undefined. Faces without hair are so uncommon that they look abnormal. Yes, there is a difference between those two words. The difference is in connotation. "Uncommon" can be interesting and appealing, whereas "abnormal" is usually sick and unwanted.

But can we give the unframed face a try? Those of you with hair can never fully conduct this experiment (so sorry), but do your best. Take a moment or two to look at yourself in the mirror with your hair pulled back and off your face (or your head uncovered, fellow baldies) and make sure your face is completely washed clean. What do you see? What stands out to you? What appeals to you, or what do you appreciate? How and why does the frame make such a difference?

We can redefine beauty by taking focus off the frame and letting our eyes fix on the amazing, delicate, strong, crooked, symmetrical, shapes, lines and colors on the canvas laid bare.

(For a funny look at celebrities with no eyebrows, click here. I'm not doing this to make fun of alopecia--I'm doing it first because I'm trying to normalize the fact that hair is not always a given, and second because I do think a light sense of humor is really important. So laugh without guilt. A face without eyebrows when you are used to seeing them, or when they are someone's trademark, is unusual enough that we need laughter to dispel our discomfort, at least at first. More on that later.)

I Am Who I Am--Dana King

I found this beautiful song on YouTube and it gives me such hope for a message of beauty being redefined. Enjoy!

A strange resentment

Yesterday I noticed some delicate little hairs coming in on my arms, around the same time that my husband noticed the peach fuzz on my face. I suppose I should be happy that I have some hair growing back. Wouldn't you be?

One of the hardest aspects of alopecia for me to deal with is the uncertainty. Will my hair grow back? If it does, how long until it falls out again?

Sorry to be a downer, but I actually resent the hair that's coming in. For one thing, I don't want to be patchy. I don't want a bald head and a fuzzy face. That's just weird. For another thing, seeing hair gives me and people I love a little bit of hope that normalcy is returning. But the nature of this disease is such that any hope can be proven false on any given day.

But I also resent this hair growth for another reason, one that many people may not understand. You see, I have been forming a new sense of self during these past few years. I have stepped out into a bold new style, I have learned about true beauty and how I can grow as a woman, and I have challenged people around me who make assumptions and unqualified judgments. I don't necessarily want to go through another change right now, one where I accept being a "partially-hairless" person.

Let it all be gone for good.

Now, I don't think I can honestly say that I would choose to remain hairless if I had the choice to get my hair back, as long as I knew it would be permanent. But I have been realizing that my struggle with alopecia has been a gift in many ways. I have been set apart somehow, and I kind of like the uniqueness I carry with me.

So, little newbie hairs, you better decide very soon if you are here to stay. (Yes, I'm talking to my hair. One of the stranger side effects of this disorder.) I am not open for tourism.

Confession

I'm a fraud.

For all this talk about getting people to change their idea of what "beautiful" looks like, I have been living in conformity to the very standards I have lambasted in this blog.

Before you rush to my defense, let me assure you--this post is not a self-indictment. This blog is about seeing ourselves and our world differently, and I recently realized I have not seen myself honestly.

I have lately defined myself as an advocate for a new kind of beauty, but--ironically--I actually do everything in my power to fit the old mold.

You'll notice, for example, the lack of photographs in which I appear bald. (That will change very soon...stay tuned!)

More subtly, my style preferences over the last year have reflected my need to look like the faces on magazine covers, even given my lack of luscious locks. I compensate by wearing long scarves that hang down my back and can drape over my shoulder. I pull the front of the scarf down low enough on my forehead that I appear to have bangs. I have recently discovered a new way of tying my scarves so that one end wraps around the tail, creating the illusion of a ponytail. I wear long earrings that dangle and swish. I even have liners to wear under my scarves to give them more volume, as if there were hair under there.

Essentially, I create the illusion of long hair even while I decry the unfair societal standards of beauty that place more value on long hair for women.

I can't help it. I feel more feminine, more attractive and, consequently, more confident when I have something framing my face and falling elegantly down my back. This is my confession.

Is that okay? Is it possible to continue with this illusion and still maintain the integrity of my message?

I am living in the tension between cultural values and inner satisfaction. One directly influences the other, and yet they can be independent with a lot of effort and retraining.

I'm not ready to go around bald all the time. Nor do I feel the need to give up my beautiful scarves. They are, after all, not hair. And therefore unique. But I do feel that I need to spend more time intentionally noticing and naming the beauty of my face when it is unframed. For instance, I may note the graceful curves of my profile, or the way my lack of hair draws attention to my soulful eyes.

Yes...there can be poetry without hair.

In the meantime, I appreciate that I have found a way to feel pretty. Don't judge.

And, in turn, I won't either.

Beautiful You

"Beautiful You", by Jonny Diaz

I heard this song today on, yes, the Christian radio station. I found the video (watch it here--I was especially intrigued by the photo touch-up process shown in the video) and I knew I had to post it. I will let it speak for itself--just remember, the beauty we see is always coming to us through a filter--either our own insecurities, the media's agenda, or actual technological filters that attempt to wipe away imperfections.

Making Waves

Two or three nights a week, I get a call from the neighbors downstairs, telling me that my kids are being too loud. And it's true. My kids were not made for condo living. With tons of energy and their favorite toy being a basketball hoop, they pretty much ensure that we will never be friends with anyone who lives underneath us. Last night the call came around 8 pm, when my kids were both throwing stomp-on-the-floor temper tantrums at bedtime. I always respond to these calls the same way: "I'm really sorry, I don't know what else to do, I'm trying my best, etc.".

You have no idea how much anguish this causes me. I am not a wave-maker. I don't like confrontation, and I REALLY don't like the thought that someone might not like me.

I know, it's hard to even imagine.

But my neighbor does not like me. The way I live my life has directly affected the way he can live his. Because I can't get my kids to settle down in the evening, he can't relax in his own home. As a result, now I can't relax in my own home. Anytime one of us accidentally drops something or lands with our feet a little too hard on the wood floors, the knot in my stomach gets an extra twist. My husband advocates completely for the kids: "They have a right to play in their home."

Yes, they do. But do we also have a responsibility to respect our neighbors' wishes, at least to some extent?

This is one of the biggest questions I'm dealing with right now. And in case you were wondering, yes--it does have something to do with beauty.

Before I lost my hair, I had some sense of the balance between self-image and responsibility for others. I had my default style, but I could make changes once in awhile if, say, my husband wanted to see me in something I wasn't totally comfortable in.

When I lost all my hair, the lines got blurred. I know it's hard for people to see a bald woman. It's an image associated with sickness or rebellion. It's not attractive to most men. It's not normal, and may therefore be a little frightening for children, especially. Every day I struggle with the need to look normal for everyone else's sake. And, admittedly, to save myself the humiliation of being forced to explain my appearance to people who have made wrong assumptions.

Is this just the burden I have to carry? Do I need to worry about what other people are comfortable with? Or should I leave it to everyone else to work out their own issues and deal with the discomfort my appearance causes?

Ironically, this question causes me the most pain as I work it out with my family. The people I am closest to. Let's take my husband, for example. If he is not attracted to a woman with a bald head, do I have the responsibility to meet his needs by keeping my head covered? And my kids, do I need to protect them from embarrassment by covering my head when their friends are around?

It seems easy to say "No way, that's ridiculous. You should just be yourself." But this is a culturally-determined response. As Americans, we are very aware of our individual rights and freedoms. In other cultures, people are intertwined, connected in ways we don't always understand.

The hard thing here is that I have an illness which has only affected me cosmetically. And there are easy ways to make myself look "normal". If I had lost a limb and was functioning just fine without it, would it be reasonable to expect me to get a prosthetic limb if someone close to me had admitted that seeing my stump made them uncomfortable?

Where do I stop trying to meet the need for comfort and start letting people go through their own journey of acceptance?

How do I redefine beauty in a way that reflects my desire to be connected with people, while at the same time refusing to give in to standards of beauty that were arbitrarily set?