Circus lady

I'm about to make you jealous. Ready? Imagine this: a peaceful drive through beautiful green palm trees, the ocean at your side; sipping an iced latte poolside as you gaze out over a crystal clear ocean reef; the sun beaming down as you close your eyes and hear the sounds of kids laughing and splashing. Sound relaxing? It should have been. And I should be accustomed to people staring at my bald head by now. But I've never experienced the staring like I did this past weekend when I was on a mini-vacation. First, there was the drive. It's summer here in the Philippines, our car is black, I want absolutely nothing covering my head when I'm out. So there I am, sitting in the passenger seat, in the privacy of my own car, bald. We pull up behind a small pickup truck with half a dozen girls riding in the back. One is awake, the rest are sleeping. I already know she will see me and stare, but I'm not prepared for her to actually wake everyone else up by shaking them, just so they can all get a glimpse of me, the "freak". I ask my husband to pass the truck illegally just so I can get away from the gawking. Then we find ourselves at this great hotel with beautiful ocean views. I am ready to read a book, relax, and watch my kids have the time of their life on the water slide...but first I have to walk through the grounds and find a place by the pool. This is a picture of that day: I have never felt so conspicuous. People stopped what they were doing to stare at me. They were out swimming in the ocean and they grouped together, pointing and coming closer. And here, people don't look away if you catch them staring. They hold that gaze. I tried not to let it bother me, but I ended up hiding in my room more than I wanted to. My husband told me they were staring because I'm so beautiful. (Nice one, honey.) And that's what friends and family tell me. But there is this element of abnormality that people are taken by, and I can't pretend it isn't there. I myself have stared at people who have lost limbs or have skin conditions, not thinking they are "freaks" but just captivated by something so different than what I experience in my own body. And now I am one of those people. I can't hold it against anyone who stares. Of course they will stare. I am not normal. I know this will make many of you question "What is normal, anyway?" But we have to admit that there are norms when it comes to human appearance. There are healthy bodies, and there are bodies that have obviously gone awry. When we see something that testifies to un-health, we are bothered by that. It's a normal human reaction. Maybe with increased exposure we can come to a place of peace about the variations we see in bodies. But in a place where appearances really matter, like the place I find myself living in now, it really just stinks to be the freak. Again, my well-intentioned husband tells me to strut when I see people staring. But I want to crumple up and disappear. It's ironic, because in high school I felt so plain and unnoticed that I would sit at home and daydream for hours about being in the spotlight somehow. Well, I made it into the spotlight, like it or not. So I know I need to move from a place of wounded pride to a placed of weathered pride, the kind of pride that says "I have learned that I am beautiful because I was created and I am known by my Creator". But how to react to the stares? Sometimes I want to make a face at people who are staring. Sometimes I want to act more distraught than I am, just to shame them. These are honest, gut-level reactions I'm confessing. Usually, I pretend I don't see people staring. I just feel the heat rise in my face and quietly suffer from embarrassment. But maybe I should learn to smile graciously and welcome the stares. Maybe then people will see past the bald head to the character being formed. Maybe then the next time they see someone else with a stare-worthy feature they will be gentle, remembering that they once saw a bald woman whose "abnormality" made her tender, not bitter. This journey is a long one.