Poster Child for Nothing

Do you have any idea how many adventures I shy away from just because I can't imagine myself doing them bald?

I went camping in Wyoming the summer before last, and the thought that consumed me for days beforehand was "How will I keep up my looks?" By "looks" I mean a covered head, eyebrows and eyeliner. My husband and I are half-heartedly thinking about anniversary trips for this summer, and every time a possible location is brought up, I can only think about how the pictures will look with "bald me" in them. I don't want to see "bald me" waking up from a night in a tent to go on a sunrise hike, doing water sports, dancing in a Paris square, or any other activity that I have seen in poster ads or Instagram pics.

Because the pictures look like this:

(http://www.familyvacationcritic.com/10-best-water-sports-resorts/art/)

(http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/france/100728/vacation-economy)

No matter how comfortable I am with my baldness in my daily life, I may always have a problem with these images of women doing exciting and lovely things...with hair. They look feminine, natural, healthy...and I don't. Can you imagine any of these images with a bald woman in them? 

Let's see if I can find any: 

Here's a cute one in Rome-

(http://romethesecondtime.blogspot.com/2010/07/who-was-that-bald-woman-in-monti.html)

And that's about all I can find. I'm sure a more thorough search would produce more, but a quick Google Images search didn't turn up many pictures of bald woman being adventurous, sporty, sexy, or romantic. 

I don't want my alopecia to stop me from enjoying life. I don't want a vacation to go undocumented because I hate how I look on camera with no hair and no makeup. I don't want to decide where I go based on how appropriate or inappropriate my scarves would look. 

But, that's where I am right now. Travel is different when I have to think about whether to pack a wig and how I would keep it from getting misshapen. 

What is your biggest travel worry?

Another Look

After almost ten years of marriage, I feel like I might finally be understanding something about my husband. He is multi-dimensional! I know, go figure.

When I first met him, I thought he was an obnoxious show-off (and he will be the first to admit that he was, indeed). Then he took the time to reach out to me during a period of intense homesickness and anxiety, and I saw a soft, loving, generous side of him. And then that was all I saw. He was up on a very secure pedestal, as most first boyfriends are.

Once the realities of family life settled in, my rose-colored glasses were ripped off and exchanged for an entirely new shade, something sort of brownish. I could only see his faults. Again, I think this trajectory is fairly normal (correct me if I'm wrong).

Another way I think of this is by comparing it to one of Chicago's biggest tourist attractions: The Bean. Technically, Cloud Gate--but it's earned a less lofty nickname due to its shape. You can be standing in the middle of this amazing city but only see a warped, distorted, bent image of one part of it--and if you stand in that spot long enough, you can slip into a different reality. You become mesmerized by the distortion and find it hard to look away. There's even a spot underneath The Bean in the center where you can look up and see yourself multiplied, with no sign of the city around you.

I feel like I have been looking at my husband in the reflection of a misshapen mirror for a long time. I have become fixated on this distortion, mostly because of that pedestal I mentioned earlier. My husband used to be one-dimensional, and now I am trying to reconcile that one dimension with the one I am allowing myself to see now. The key word here is one. I am still seeing only one dimension, one angle.

I need to tear my eyes away from the enticing yet distorted image I allow myself to get fixated on and turn around to see the entire, all-inclusive view. The view of the city after turning away from The Bean can seem flat at first, until you notice that you have a more grounded sense of space, distance, color and movement. Not to extend this analogy way past the point of ridiculousness, but I do think my husband is more like a city than a reflection of a building. He moves, he pulses, he lights up and then hides in darkness, he is assaulted and loved, he is tender and hard, he serves and he works and he entertains. He is simultaneously the past, present and future.

We all are. This is because we were created in the image of a multi-faceted God who is, was, and will be. The only difference is that God in perfection doesn't change (although God is always creating and renewing), whereas we are constantly growing, adapting and refashioning ourselves. I think I might slowly be learning to give my husband space to be all of himself and change as he needs to.

This applies, by the way, to anyone we have spent any amount of time with. Siblings, parents, children, roommates, friends, coworkers--they all deserve for us to step away from the bent image that kept us standing in one place and take in the entire picture, messy and frustratingly fluctuating as it may be.

Oh yeah...this applies to myself, too.

Impressions

If you are not a fan of impressionism as an art form, I suggest you go back and take another look. The effect of color, lines, boundaries, shape, light, etc. on our senses is fascinating. It's especially fascinating to discover how different people respond to the same painting or photograph. We often come away with these different impressions because of past experiences, desires, moods, or even distractions. When I look at the works of impressionist painters, I always wonder if the impression I'm getting is the one the artist was hoping to produce.

What impression do you get from the picture above?

It's an edited photograph. It's one of my favorite pictures that I have ever produced. I took it with my iPhone and edited the colors a bit, but the impressionist feel was produced by the mere fact of looking out a rainy window.

I want to tell you the effect I hope this picture has on people, but I won't. Because in the end, it doesn't matter. I enjoy this picture in a particular way, but who am I to impose that on someone else? Neither would I want someone to tell me how a particular song is supposed to make me feel.

You know, I have been thinking of myself as an impressionist lately. I often ask myself, "What impression are you hoping to make on people today?" I might choose a more severe and dramatic set of eyebrows for the day, or a certain pair of shoes. There are countless ways I construct my "look" to produce some kind of overall impression of who I am...or who I want to be. At work, I like to give the impression that I am composed and mature. I find that the clothes best suited for this are buttoned blouses, turtlenecks, shoes with low heels and pointed toes, bracelets, and my scarf in a bun. When I am walking in my neighborhood and want to give off the impression that I belong in the 'hood, I like anklets, a scarf with a long tail down the back, big earrings, maybe a cap over my scarf, and a fairly tight T-shirt.

The gist is, I try to arrange colors and textures in such a way as to give an onlooker a certain impression of reality. I don't have one "look"; I have as many styles as I have moods, fears, hopes, or purposes.

The thing is, I can't totally control what impression people have of me at any given moment. I may try to give off a certain vibe, but it often backfires. I might go into work thinking I look professional, when coworkers end up making comments about how "fashionable" I look, as if I valued that. I might try to look like the consummate sports fan at a Cubs game, but the die-hards around me probably sense my boredom and ignorance as the game goes on.

The lesson in all of this, if there has to be one, is that impressionism is about the artist as much as it is about the onlookers. It is about reflecting some sense of reality that is true for the artist and may find resonance with some viewers. If not, then a new sense of reality can be constructed between and among differing impressions. Not to philosophize fashion, but perhaps we should consider that the act of choosing how we will dress and arrange ourselves every morning is an act of impressionism. And impressionism is simply (or brilliantly) a way to boil details down into the most important sensory experiences.

If you want to make an impression on someone, give them something to experience. Let them see colors that reflect how you see yourself that day. Let your impressionist art be about communicating the core aspects of your "person" rather than the stereotype you are actually trying to stuff yourself into. Allow yourself to be released into a community of onlookers (who are also artists themselves, don't forget) whose impressions of you, no matter how varied or deviant from your intentions, will enrich your human reality and produce empathic responses all around.

So, what impression are you trying to make today? I challenge you to ask that question every day this week.