I Cried Because I Had Bad Hair

"I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet" ~ Author Unknown

It has not been lost on me, that I have been expending an extraordinary amount of time obsessing about things that really don't matter as of late - the fact that I have not been wearing my age well, the effort it takes to maintain "pretty feet and hands", bad hair and the list goes on and on, my friend.

I have been cringing each and every time I take a look in the mirror. I finally picked up the phone and made an appointment for a full hair makeover tonight. Cut, color, the works. 

I told my stylist, "There is absolutely nothing I like about my hair. Except the fact that I have it." She replied, "I can fix that! Or I will certainly try..."

I was actually very serious about the fact that I know my bad hair days are not the end of the world. 

I have hair. I have a lot of hair. The fact that I find it unmanageable is actually quite a good problem to have. The side effect of looking at said hair in the mirror and allowing it to affect my day is my problem. And a minor one at that.

I knew this, yet I still allowed myself to focus my attention towards it. Perhaps because there is something I can (try) to do to fix the problem at hand.

I am all about "doing what is within your power" to fix or adjust or adapt to life's frustrations. I do it all the time.

I google everything. I write out many of my thoughts and try to live a life where I will not regret what I have or have not said. 

If I invest enough energy worrying about something, I do my level best to try to do something to deal with the worry of the moment.

Life has been so terribly serious. Too many people I know are dealing with serious health issues. There is nothing I can do for anyone. Except reach out ...

Last night I did just that. The gift of reaching out in a quiet, one-sided manner, is that the person on the other end of that gesture can respond when they have the time, energy and ability to do so.

Lucky me. That person called me back last night. We talked like we have talked on many other occasions. She has an ability to laugh on the outside, even though I can only assume that it may be a case of "If I don't laugh, I might cry and I choose laughter".

She is a warrior. She is fighting the good fight and it has been an uphill battle. She is certain things are about to change. It is the only way left for things to go.

An intensive regimen of radiology is on her agenda and she is laughing about the fact that she no longer has to worry about the hair growing back from recent brain surgery. She laughed as she said, "It will probably all fall out any way, so I don't even have to worry about the gray hair that is showing!"

"I cried because I had bad hair, until I met the woman may lose her hair".

I worry about the little things because sometimes I feel like those are the only things that are within my control. 

Life is too full of things where we feel completely powerless. I spoke to my warrior friend and laughed along with her last night. And it was good.

Tonight I will go and deal with my unmanageable hair. And be grateful for what, I consider to be a frustration, is truly a blessing. I really knew this all along but it never hurts for life to remind me to keep my priorities in focus.