When I was about seven or eight years old, I had a really bad haircut. My mother brought me to a Chinese hairdresser at the shopping complex near my HDB block. My mother described what I had asked for to the hairdresser - shorter hair, a little curly bob, up to my chin. In response, there was a lot of hand fluttering and picture-pointing and sounds from the hairdresser that suggested that everything was easily doable. My mother seated herself behind me, I closed my eyes, and the hairdresser began her work.
Beautifully expressed... I smiled, teared up then felt them slip out and down my cheek at the child getting the haircut ( for me it was perms) but same anguish. Stood taller under the stars and overall wrapped my arms around you for your tenacity.
Such a beautiful post. So much hope and bravery too in your words. Especially this-- "I am crying again. There is a low guttural sound. It’s not unfamiliar, I have heard this before. It is coming from inside me, I feel it rising in my body. This time it isn’t bile, this time it feels like light, it feels like air, it feels like something new and precious coursing through my body." Thank you for writing and sharing.
Beautifully expressed... I smiled, teared up then felt them slip out and down my cheek at the child getting the haircut ( for me it was perms) but same anguish. Stood taller under the stars and overall wrapped my arms around you for your tenacity.
Thank you for this lovely message, Sue. I’m so glad that my words resonated with you.
Such a beautiful post. So much hope and bravery too in your words. Especially this-- "I am crying again. There is a low guttural sound. It’s not unfamiliar, I have heard this before. It is coming from inside me, I feel it rising in my body. This time it isn’t bile, this time it feels like light, it feels like air, it feels like something new and precious coursing through my body." Thank you for writing and sharing.
Thank you for reading and for the lovely comment that you have shared.