@postaday 341; #postaday2011.
I’m leaving work early for a little maintenance in time for holiday pics. I can own that. I probably get to do this twice a year, which is pretty lucky compared to some women who need to get their touch ups, shots, and snips more often. I’m blessed with hair that hides its sparkles most of the time. But when it gets too long, I have to set myself free.
Admittedly, the hair is darker than my years-ago surfer girl. But I’m not ready to be old, or to look old, and I cringe when 30-something kids call me auntie.
To an extent what we wear and how we look is a disguise to what we are inside. During our commute the other day, Carrie and I were talking about some of our friends. One friend we know in particular helped me discover something about myself. When I see someone I’d like to know, whom I’m intrigued by, whom I imagine a fun or an interesting person, I try to figure out a way to get closer and to get to know them. Isn’t that the dance of friendship or relationships? This particular person was like a closed book, very hard to read. Eventually we connected. Carrie remarked on how they seem friendlier now. We don’t know if it’s because they grew comfortable with us, or more confident in themselves, but it’s a nice development.
I’m always so afraid when it comes to reaching out. But isn’t that also the dance of life? How is it that some people scare us until you get to know them? Often I feel as though I’ve taken the wrong step and I’ve stepped on someone’s toes, and then I beat myself up for letting myself be vulnerable. Some people take advantage of our vulnerabilities and trample upon them. Others are gracious, and hand me back my dignity. Those are the friends you love to the end. Those are the friends with whom you want to dance.
Lavagal 