Submitted by Pomegranate
My hair is very expensive. Per strand it’s worth a surprising amount. It used to get weekly treatments at a clinic in New York. It got cut by a Japanese stylist on Madison Avenue every four months. It had special tonics applied to it three times a day. It was also usually the thinnest least attractive hair in the room.
They say hair is an external manifestation of the body’s internal balance and health. I took it a step further. For me, my hair was an external manifestation of the deficiency in myself, in who I was. What I knew did not matter – this was what I felt.
It seemed that my lack of beautiful hair was a symbol of the lack of my femininity, the proof that I actually was made of dry, dull cardboard; and my lack of femininity, the cause of my loss, the cause of my grief. When I was a teenager, and in my early twenties, and in my mid-twenties, and throughout most of my late twenties, something in me felt that I lost what I lost so long ago because my hair was not nice enough – because I was somehow not good enough. In truth I lost my hair partly because of what happened to me, not the other way around. But again, what I knew did not matter – this was what I felt.
But if you are lucky, if you are open to it, and if you choose it, life heals you. Gradually my hair became what it actually was meant to be – just hair. Not the best hair, not beautiful hair, not hair that I really want representing me, but in the end it is finally just hair. And still worth a lot per strand.