I can talk to anyone
Last month when I was living in Crazytown, I crawled out of my hole to get my hair done. Part of getting ready to teach six workshops includes making sure that I’m presentable. I don’t want them looking at my grey hair but actually listening to the stuff they paid me money to teach them.
When I called for my appointment, the receptionist said that my usual hair dresser was in a terrible car accident. She was recovering but until she could stand on her feet, I would have to schedule my appointment with the salon’s manager. I didn’t recognize her name but I figured, hey she’s the manager, how bad could this be?
I walked in and the receptionist pointed out who would be doing my hair. Really? Her? I knew who she was. I’ve seen this blond woman in the salon before. She was always moving fast, talking loud and was so “super happy.” She’s the woman they modeled Cheerleader Barbie after.
I can do this. I can talk to anyone. I make friends in the bathroom line.
I sat in her chair and we discussed my hair. I wanted to stick to something safe like how I wear my hair and which celebrity has the color I like the most. That lasted a big ten minutes. I worried that we’d spend the whole time talking about the Kardashians or whether this year’s hemline made women’s legs look fat.
Or worse. Maybe she’d go on about her perfect life that matched her perfect body and perfect blond hair. She’d talk about her perfect boyfriend while they lived in their perfect house. And I would scoot further down in my chair trying to hide those extra pounds I put on this summer.
I admit it
I judged her. There it is. I said it. I judged her even before she opened her mouth.
There was an uncomfortable silence for about 15 minutes as she worked. Then she started to talk. She told me a story about how nervous she was to style her first fashion show. And when she discovered I was divorced, she began to tell me about how she left her live-in boyfriend of 8 years. She said she didn’t want to marry him because that’s what everyone thought she should do.
We talked about the movie called The Secret and the Law of Attraction. The more I learned about her, the more I felt bad for judging her. She was smart, funny and had an enormous amount of courage. If I were man, I’d probably want to date her.
And she did wonderful things to my hair! I was smiling so much when I got out of her chair that she reached out and hugged me. She wanted to share in my happiness.
It’s terrible that I judged her like that. I mean, look at what I wrote in my Transformation Moments section of this blog? One of my biggest fears is that people will judge me because of how I look, my marriage or worse, because of something that I blogged about. It took me awhile to learn to let go and to start speaking my truth.
I’m not here to give you that ‘judge a book cover’ speech. We all know that one by now. Maybe we should update that line to read: You shouldn’t judge a person by the shape of their body or their hair color. We’ve all traveled a long road and not all of those roads were paved.
Photo credit: Courtroom One Gavel