Yep. It’s all fun and
games…until some b#tch decides to cut off all her hair. Then it’s AWN!
It has been an interesting 24 hours since making a decision
that, at the very least, would provide what I knew would be a perception-altering
experience. Suddenly, it’s as if I am no
longer a sexual object. But further than
that even: it seems as if I am no longer an object at all!
Today as I was walking into my gym, I was
just at the tail end of my “Thank Yo- “ when the kind young man in front of me holding the door open, let it go and it came down sharply in front of
me.
It was abrupt. And I got
the message: If I cannot sexualize you, I don’t really know how to classify you
(HOT! or NOT!) so my brain simply shuts down this unusual set of inputs and you
cease to exist.
The juxtaposition is staggering: last night, I was feeling ever so pleased (and not a bit relieved!) with how things had turned out. I wasn’t at all sure that it would, but since pondering this issue at length all day Friday (while simultaneously waiting for my wayward hairdresser to call me and tell me how she was gonna fix this 'ish), and then opening up my mailbox late Friday afternoon to see THIS on the cover of my People magazine? Well, what greater confirmation could I have received that this was a good idea?!?
So - finding myself tired, angry and dateless again on a Friday night, I took to the clippers.
The positive effect of having a door dropped in my face is that it leaves me with this feeling of being suddenly free from the nuisances that come with ordinary, everyday (over) sexualization. So, I decide to engage the men in the sauna (in the same way they do me, even when it's quite clear that i just want to spend a few moments sweating silently). Yes, Quite.
An older gentleman (older than me) who uses the sauna frequently, is my target. He has never tried to chat me up, he has hardly ever looked my way, really. But what the hell, he’s there, I’m there and I need answers, dammit!
The juxtaposition is staggering: last night, I was feeling ever so pleased (and not a bit relieved!) with how things had turned out. I wasn’t at all sure that it would, but since pondering this issue at length all day Friday (while simultaneously waiting for my wayward hairdresser to call me and tell me how she was gonna fix this 'ish), and then opening up my mailbox late Friday afternoon to see THIS on the cover of my People magazine? Well, what greater confirmation could I have received that this was a good idea?!?
So - finding myself tired, angry and dateless again on a Friday night, I took to the clippers.
The positive effect of having a door dropped in my face is that it leaves me with this feeling of being suddenly free from the nuisances that come with ordinary, everyday (over) sexualization. So, I decide to engage the men in the sauna (in the same way they do me, even when it's quite clear that i just want to spend a few moments sweating silently). Yes, Quite.
An older gentleman (older than me) who uses the sauna frequently, is my target. He has never tried to chat me up, he has hardly ever looked my way, really. But what the hell, he’s there, I’m there and I need answers, dammit!
“Excuse me, sir,” I offer politely. “You are from either Ethiopia or Eritrea,
correct?”
“I am from the Original” he proclaims proudly, daring me to
clarify which country that might be.
Feeling fairly certain, yet not 100% certain (it’s Ethiopia) and not wanting ask the stereotypical “dumbass ‘Murican-who-knows-of-no-other-lands-outside-of-his-home-country” clarifying question, I decide to press on.
Me: Yes, well, is the sauna a traditional practice in your
country?
Him: Oh, ahhhh (interested now) in some tribes, yes.
Me: Because I notice that there are a lot of Ethiopians and
Eritreans who frequent this gym (in walks his friend) and you seem to use the
sauna a lot more than we Americans use it.
And now he, his friend and I engage in a lively discussion
about how they were just discussing that same topic the other day. And yes indeed he had recently found out that
one of the Ancient Ethiopian Kings had had a sauna in his
estate/castle/dwelling. I find Ethiopians to be particularly proud to
talk about their country, and the other man shared with me that the
hottest place year-round on the planet is in Ethiopia– its called Dallol, and the average daily temperature is 96 degrees. every.damn.day.
Speaking of which, I am now extremely overheated (and
quickly losing my ability to play it cool as my leg begins to twitch uncontrollably) and make my exit.
I walk to my car and upon learning that I have managed to
lose my keys, I return to the gym and check in with the pleasant-looking desk
clerk, who has never once failed to flash me one of his toothy million dollar smiles. Not this time. Ohhhhhnoooooo, Sister. This time, upon registering whom it was who
was speaking to him, he gives me this odd, weirdly pained look, as if I had
just kneed him square in the balls!
I explain my situation, but he is only half-listening, as he
rifles through a couple of drawers and avoids making eye contact.
Feeling humiliated, I quickly jettison the offending scalp
(with attached body) out the door and re-trace my steps back up to the car. Nothing.
Certain that they must have fallen out at the gym, I knew
that I must return and leave my number, just in case they turn up. Anxiety builds, as I fear seeing the same front desk clerk and having to engage him in a conversation about my
phone
number, and of course then he will think I am trying pick him up for real,...and…and...Phew. I
am gratified to see my Girl there, but no keys.
What is this hostility about? Is it pissiness that I have stolen their
style? Have I broken some sort of
unwritten hetro-code that states I am no longer a female without my hair? Is baldness some sort of closed-doors-guy-exclusive
territory that may be breached if and only if one is dealing with
terminal illness? Is it because I have a choice? Or - Have I Just Lost
What Makes Me Sexy and Desirable?
This final thought leaves me a bit sad – for a moment. Until I realize the absolute truth of the
thought that follows it: “Beauty Radiates from Within” and know that the brilliance
of my light is a constant, independent of however I may choose to wear my hair.
Or not.
And no I don't know why I am holding my thumb like "I just got your nose." carry on -
