Bad hair won’t bring me down


So, I burnt a clump of my hair off the other morning. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention to what I was doing because before I realized what was happening, I was seeing smoke and a crispy patch of fried ginger locks floating downward. My blow dryer can apparently emit some intense heat! Luckily, said locks were toward the back of my head and in an area where I have ample amounts of frizzage, so the section won’t be too noticeable. Anyhoo, to add insult to my near injury, a short time later, I proceeded to smear a piece of chocolate protein bar on a new skirt during my drive into work and then spill coffee down my white blouse as I booted up my laptop. Suffice it to say, I am one hot mess right now.

I bring all of this up because surprisingly, as I sat typing in my stained clothes and damaged hair,  I was completely at peace. I was not panicked, my self-esteem was in check, and I had yet to utter a swear word (and that’s saying something, damn it.) Is it the yoga? Perhaps, but I think something else is behind my unusual acceptance of this series of unfortunate events.

A colleague recently suffered a terrible tragedy, one of the worst imaginable, and to see her coming to work and carrying on as best she can, makes my freaking out about a bald spot seem just plain silly. I also have a friend who is enduring cancer treatment and another who is going through a heartbreaking divorce. In comparison to their worries, who really cares if I ruin a stupid shirt? Life has been suddenly thrust into perspective.

Bottom line, I lead a charmed life. My children are healthy and happy, my husband and I are both employed and still in love, and we have a tremendous network of friends and family who support us. And yet, I’ll admit to days where the “Whoa is me!” attitude takes over. I complain about Doo, the dog, the fact that my kids have to be reminded to put their cereal bowls in the dishwasher. Every. Single. Time.

Sometimes, I guess we all can use a wake-up call, or several. People are dealing with real issues, real sorrows, and for us lucky ones who fate has spared momentarily, it’s important to not get caught up in the irritating minutia that, in reality, just don’t mean squat. So, I’m not going to obsess about my new hairdo or throw a tizzy about my messy appearance. And I’m going to try to keep my focus on what’s truly important – good health, family and paying attention while handling electric styling tools. Peace out.


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