As part of a link up with other bloggers at Crystal Stine’s blog, I’m telling the behind the scenes story of a picture. The premise being that in this social media world we often capture the beautiful moments that leave the viewer wondering why they can’t have the perfect meal, family, house, haircut, fashion sense, and friends. Every picture has a story behind it of the moments leading up to it…
Take my recent Facebook picture, for example.
It was taken less than 24 hours after I had my hair cut…shorter than it’s been after it grew out in 2011 from chemotherapy in 2010. I had been sweltering in this South Georgia heat and humidity to the point that my hair was getting in the way of my exercising. It was my excuse for not walking.
“I don’t want to have to fix my hair all the time.”
Part of my post-chemo hair personality is not needing to be washed daily anymore. That has been wonderful and freeing!
As the new curls (like curled ribbon stretched against scissor blades) gave way to my former straighter and frizzy locks, fixing my hair has become a time consuming frustration I swore I wouldn’t do again like I had before 2010. I was freed from the bondage of too much time in front of the mirror and loved it. Gradually, though, I was returning to the same ole same ole.
So, the day before this photo I kept my hair appointment and told my hairdresser it was time to shorten my hair and in so doing, cut away excuses for not exercising as well as time I took for getting it to look just right. I was ready for a cool haircut; “cool” as in temperature tolerance and style.
She cut away and styled and I left confident and ready to snap a picture to send my sister.
However, when I tried and tried to snap a picture to send, I could not find a flattering angle. I cried. I lamented over my bad choice. It was not flattering after all. What had I done?!?! I vowed I wouldn’t take another picture until it grew out again. I mourned the loss of the curls. I even mourned the days of no hair when I could throw on a cap or my wig Delilah. For a brief twisted second, I contemplated shaving it off. What?!
By the next morning I was renewed to style it on my own even though some serious short hair bed head had won the battle with the pillow. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do to renew a downcast spirit. I had errands to run in preparation for my 27th anniversary trip followed by time with my sister at our annual Sister Retreat in the mountains.
But I was determined to capture my short haired essence! Sometimes taking a picture of myself jolts me back into the reality that life is far more than my happiness with my appearance. I’m supposed to radiate Him.
So, right before pulling out of the driveway, I stopped, thanked Him for His healing and for having hair that has morphed from new and tight curls to straight strands, and I snapped that photo. I committed to one take, no matter what, that I would send off to my sister. Bra straps are showing. Hopeful eyes are hiding behind sunglasses. That questioning smile graced the moment and morphed into confidence as I hit “send”.
Look at that picture to the right up there…see those curls? I miss them. One day, I’ll change that picture. But for now, I have both pictures to remind me of where I’ve been and to look forward to where I’m going.