A Cured Hair PullerEach thread of hair feels as soft as silk as I play with it with my fingers. I touch the root of one hair I have been dying to pull. I reach the root and dig my nails into the skin and there is a slight pop. I slowly part it from my head and feel a rush of relief. My stomach just about turned over from the clenching, gut turning urge to pull the hair. Now I feel relief. Like an ice cold cup of lemonade on the hottest summer day. I stare back at the tiny parcel that I just conceived. I tell myself, ‘ONE hair won’t matter.’ I am then completely satisfied with myself and throw the hair. I continue to read my book. My left hand slowly starts to reach toward my golden dirty blonde hair. I tell myself again, ‘ONE more won’t hurt. By my 50th hair that I have pulled I begin to break. Golden hair lies all around me. I have pulled more before I tell myself, but it doesn’t help. Like the storm after the calm I begin to cry. What is wrong with me? I look into the mirror and see my brown eyes wet with the now shed tears. Fat tears roll down my puffy red cheeks. My eyelashes have “holes” in them and my eyebrows are much shorter than normal. I know I have to do it eventually, so I start to tilt my head cautiously to the side and see the red, irritated, now bald spot on my scalp. This just makes me want to pull more. Ashamed of myself I crawl into bed, pull the sheets up over my throbbing scalp dreading tomorrow, and wondering how I will cover it up. The secret of my pulling changes everything. That was then. This is now. Have you ever closed your eyes and listened to the angry waves of the ocean? Have you ever been caught underneath the strength of one wave and wonder if you will get out of the sea’s metal cage? Have you ever felt the water lick your toes and felt the foam bubble up beneath your feet? It’s like the ocean is never stopping. Always moving, and always singing its peaceful song. It takes out old sand and brings in new shells, and rocks that have eroded throughout the years. Always baring new life and providing for us. It feels as if it has a life of its own. Always wild and ready to face the hardest of tasks. Never afraid of anything. But sometimes, the waves seem to crash at the worst moments, or at the worst places. Right now, I am the ocean.
LDAWG1 16-18, F 17 Responses 24 Aug 13, 2007