Sunday, December 19, 2010

“You Look Terrible”

Monday, 15 Novembre 2010

How can I start talking/writing about today? It’s been one week on birthcontrol and I don’t know if my body likes it or maybe I don’t like really being able to feel what I do about where I am.

So I woke up only because I had to and was completely unmotivated. Unmotivated to get up. Unmotivated to go to the CSPS. Unmotivated to eat. Unmotivated to shower.

As I finish my oatmeal (I decided I should eat for fear of my stomach being ultra sensitive to missing one morning of fiber) I decide I’m going to cut my hair again. Finish cutting my hair would be more accurate to say. So I put my “above the shoulder” length hair up into a low-slung ponytail and then I take my scissors to it. Chop the tail right off. Now I’m left with a Victoria Beckham-esque hair cut and decide to chop at it some more. I don’t like the a-symmetricality of that 1st cut and decide to just go for a twiggy hair cut. Yes, it’s that short. I’m done and look at myself in my very small mirror and say outloud “you look terrible.” I immediately regret cutting my hair and walk aimlessly around my small kitchen area and start to cry. Softly and to myself at first and then get down on my knees and compact my body and let the waterworks flow. I cried, no, I bawled for a good 45 minutes until my neighbors came over and tried to greet me while I was crying on the floor. Finally, because I was ignoring them, a french-speaking woman came into my house and attempted to comfort me. Asking me why I’m crying? Am I sick? Why did I cut my hair? Etc. Eventually I mumble some words in French and she tells me to calm down and stop crying – to take a shower, go to Sapouy for the marché and calm down. No more crying.

This is difficult for me – to stop crying. Everytime my hands reach my head expecting to find my long hair they become shocked and shrivel back to my sides and I have this very strong wave crash into me and I feel my eyes welling up.

So – shower, I did. & Rode my bike to Kation to see if I could catch a camion/bus because I wasn’t up for the 27km bike ride. Instead, I was greeted by the Jamaican man who loves the Police, Rolling Stones and Scorpion and he buys me a small watermelon and sets me up with a ride to Sapouy from another English speaking individual. Before I get in the truck the Jamaican man asks me “Why you cut your hair, man?” I said “I was having a bad day.” Ha. So I get to Sapouy and go get a spot at the bar, get a Fanta and a saché of water, cut my watermelon and share it with the surrounding men around me. Go to the poste (post office) at 15:00 and am greeted by closed doors. Damn. Really the only reason I came. Oh well – Go to the marché and buy eggplant, garlic and bread and at the small boutique I buy oil, Sprite, cookies and vinegar. I was hoping to find green peppers, but no such luck. I ride my bike back to site and give Agathe, who’s sick at the time, two bananas. I end up eating dinner at her place. I don’t know why – but she continues to ask me why I cut my hair. Really, I don’t know. Why not?

1 comment:

  1. Your mama might jump to "opportunities" to be a mom again, but she also knows your inner "quiet" self - that sometimes not even you can hear. The image of you balled-up on the floor is exactly what I "heard" when you mentioned the hair cuttting and instinctively knew the silent conflict you were attempting to battle. Now, I have no words of resounding wisdom to offer; only that I am unimaginably proud of you and my love is unfailing and forever. Let your life unfold as it will and try to let the unanswered questions remain a mystery. Some things just need to be what they reason...just are.