I just got a Groupon offer for laser nail-fungal removal. Really?!? Not only would I have been happy to go through life never knowing that such a thing as laser nail-fungal removal existed, but I am deeply offended that Groupon would think I am in need of such a service. What in my Groupon buying history would indicate that I might have a fungus-infected nail in need of removal? (Groupon also must think I am the hairiest woman ever given all the hair removal offers I am sent.)
This isn’t the first time I have felt mislabeled. Somehow my Pandora stations always end up sounding dark and gloomy, more reflective of a moody teenager than the content thirty-something I wish to be. Netflix is always trying to convince me that I am a Asian-Shakespearean-Adaptation watcher when I am looking for Forties Era-Lighthearted-Comedy. On the inside, my wardrobe is all color and light while my closet is all greys and blacks. Hmmm. I am sensing a trend here.
Every once and a while, I need to shake things up and thumb my nose at the moody, depressing Asian film watching, black clothes wearing girl I apparently am. So this winter, when the Indiana overcast skies were closing in, I added a little color to my life, or rather my head. It seemed like such an innocent bit of fun but months later I, along with my faithful hairstylist, am still suffering the consequences. The fake color is still hanging on while my real color is desperately trying to take root. (Think Pepe Le Pu stripe of ash blonde down the middle of auburn with a touch of brown). Above mentioned faithful hairstylist says there is nothing to do but wait it out…and wear lots of hats.
I can’t help but think this is a picture of so much more than the fallout from one of my impulsive decisions. So often I feel like my hair looks. Somewhere in the middle of transforming into my true nature. I have a streak of glory, moments of obedience followed by long waves of fleshly let downs, days of defiance. I am all gooey and undone inside my chrysalis, no longer a caterpillar but not yet a butterfly. Mostly darkness now but waiting to “burst forth in glorious day.”
There is no telling how long the process will take but I can do something to help it along. The choices I make string together in a pattern. Just like my movie choices and Pandora thumbs up create a template for my likes and dislikes, I can choose right over wrong, selflessness over selfishness, and create a pattern of righteousness. Little by little these decisions will grow. Little by little so will I. I may be a gooey mess today but one day my butterfly with emerge.
Ah, Crab Apples! 