Goth? Punk? All the colours of the rainbow? Which is more me?
Who knows, that changes all the time, but yes, I am at it again.
One of the many things health professionals don’t tell you or seem to notice is that many borderlines have this thing about drastically altering their appearance. Cutting our hair or dying it loud colours – I am no exception and have been doing this for years.
I would spend many months growing my hair, then in a fit of impulse, walk into the nearest bathroom and cut it all off with whatever came to hand, including hacking away with razor blades.
One day at work, I did this in my lunch break. Shoulder length wavy hair one moment then fifteen minutes with the stationery scissors and I emerged with a short pixie cut. I became quite adept, and it worked on most occasions. I failed abysmally on my grandmothers one hundredth birthday by trying to get it perfect, could not get it, even so, it progressively shorter before I had to give up and take an emergency trip to a hairdresser. She shook her head and told me never, ever to do that again, and I had made such a mess she had to get the shaver out. All over number two. So yes, I turned up at my grandmothers 100th birthday party with a head like a tennis ball.
The number of mistakes I have made with supermarket hair dyes … well, probably beyond counting.
I don’t know whether this is part of our identity issues, or our impulsiveness or both – but it is a borderline thing 🙂
Now I have managed this aspect of myself really well since finding this out: my hair is now at the bottom of my shoulder blades, and the bottom half has faded brown dye, while the top is more salt than pepper. But the urges, oh those urges!
When I change my hair, of necessity makeup changes need to occur, and that has always been a fun bit for me. In my youth, I wished for black nail polish (I hardly ever use nail polish but I am craving black nail polish right now), but they didn’t have it around back then. Now it is available and so are hair dyes in the most delicious bright blues and purples – I am not a pink gal.
Outside I am a middle-aged woman. Inside I am yet to grow up, so the rebellious teenager in me really wants to do this.
But now I know that I swing; up and down, in and out. There is no consistency to the moods or personalities that are me.
A little voice reminds me I am middle-aged and asks me what the neighbours would think – but then another part of me always says, so what? Be yourself!
So who am I? What is my ‘look’? I am no fairy princess, I have a lot of darkness – so do I go Goth or Punk or all the colours of the rainbow? Or continue to be invisible, respectable and entirely boring?
Can I, can I, can I explode into colour and alternate style at my age?
Therapy says yes.
Alternate rebellion is actually a thing … in fact it is the most fun thing about therapy, so that can be my out. I’m not doing it to rebel, it is just fun and expression and urges, urges, urges …
So I have my out don’t you think?