It is almost 12:30pm and I am finishing up an email in a hurry. I need to hop out to meet hubby for a quick lunch. This is Thursday afternoon, sun is out again and having a lunch date in the middle of a work day is never a bad idea. Our favourite joint has reopened after 2 months, with a new look & name and guess what, they are giving a 50% discount on all bills for the first week! Oh of course, we care more for the food there. And, I find myself not really typing much anymore; my thoughts have drifted to the delicious bowl of katsu curry…
My stomach growls so I finish the email, grab my jacket in style and sprint to the doors. I’m the only one in the elevator, so I think to myself this will be a quick ride down thankfully. I turn to the mirror behind me, adjust my glasses and glare at my hair. I quickly comb my hand through the sides and sigh looking at it. It is never in its place. The number of times I must have pursed my lips and cursed my hair is tending to infinity by now.
I hear the polite elevator lady come alive suddenly; it has stopped on a few floors below and two impeccably dressed ladies walk in . I know this is the Human Resources floor, they usually walk in and out in groups, incessantly chatting. We exchange customary smiles and I begin to stare at the floor. Not really, I am actually checking out their shoes, I have a fetish. Well, who doesn’t!
And I digress.
An elevator is a small area, so even if you are too polite you cannot help but overhear the conversations. Perhaps that’s why people fall back on complete silence, sometimes stop breathing even I feel. But not my two companions today! They are discussing how their arms aren’t getting any thinner, how their skin looks dull, and how envious one is of the other’s well-shaped glossy nails, among other such comparative compliments. It is the ground floor finally, I zip up my jacket and head out. The sunshine isn’t warm, the wind is strong and chilly. My hair begins to fly all over the place and I keep trying to pull it back together. Sighing all through.
My thoughts slowly drift back to the conversation in the elevator. It is almost ingrained in us to find faults with our appearance, isn’t it? No matter which part of the world, women will never be at peace with their bodies. No wonder the skinny models and photoshopped posters have become benchmarks for perfection, and sadly so. I have disliked my hair from the time I have stored memories in my brain! And what if, I think to myself, hating my hair for all these years is actually what made it worse! What if I had sent some good, positive energy, some love towards it and maybe my hair would have listened and only got better with time?
It is just a theory. But it sure sounds like it will be worth a try. Doesn’t it boil down to loving and accepting ourselves for who we are, exactly the way we are? Loving our outward appearance is as important, probably more so in today’s times, so that we are not driven to madness by the judgmental world. So what her hair is curly, or my waist isn’t 28 inches anymore, so what your eyebrows aren’t done or her thighs are prominent. These quirks are what make each of us unique, and we should be accepting of us, as a whole.
I am approaching the other end of this long walk to hubby’s office, I spot him looking in my direction. Our eyes meet, and soon hands are in hands. He immediately compliments, “your hair looks nice, is shining in the sun”. I gape at him for a few seconds and then smile a thank you back! Of course, my hair looks good, I think to myself. Yes, it does.
And the slow long process of testing my theory with practicals just began.