Posts Tagged ‘perm’
Like many reading this, I’ve been struggling to understand the high level of divisiveness that’s permeating our national mood as of late. It was only recently that I discovered an even greater lightning rod for inciting strong opinions and, in some cases, public outrage. And no, I’m not referring to how you may or may not have voted for in the last presidential election, but to my… (dare I admit having it so publicly?) man bun.
At the risk of sounding defensive, I feel compelled to share that growing my hair long enough to entertain having a man bun was never my intent. At least not originally. But after sporting a new style that my barber suggested, I found my hair getting longer and longer. I enjoyed the length when out, socially—but needed a way to keep it out of my face while working. Thus, my first attempt at man-bun-ding took place. And I have to say; it proved to be an effective method for not having to deal with long hair during the work day.
But never in my life would I have predicted that public reaction to said man bun would be so resolute and even vindictive—often from people I’d never met before. I also received a lot of flack from friends, many asking, “Why?”—as if I’d done something to purposely insult them.
Between you and me, it was never my intent to keep my man bun as part of my “look” for very long. But with every outcry I received over it, I felt more and more compelled to keep it around for a while. Not so much to upset people, but because I was fascinated with peoples’ overt reactions. It was as if the hair on my head, when tied up with a small band and curled into a bun (yes, much like the style sported by one Pebbles Flintstone) was being done to intentionally ruin their day.
The parallels to other life disagreements have not been lost on me. With the advent of social media, we’ve all become a little more courageous in regard to sharing our opinions loudly and proudly. But is doing so really “brave” when hiding behind a 140 word-count on Twitter or similar platforms offered by facebook and other online pulpits? What’s happened to “Live and let live?” Much less “Acceptance?”
I know that, for myself, when I don’t accept the circumstances of life, I can come undone, mentally. This often plays out in the confines of my head, hidden from public view—until someone shares an opinion I disagree with (often on TV), which can sometimes make me spin out of control. I then (mistakenly) believe I have the power to not only prove that my viewpoint is more right than someone else’s, but also to instantly change the opinion of the person who doesn’t share my point of view.
Of course, I acknowledge that political, religious and other strongly held beliefs are important to us (and carry much greater impact than whether or not someone likes my hairstyle). But does it really matter to anyone if I have a man bun or not? And does it really matter if someone has different beliefs than I do? Can’t we coexist in a peaceful manner and even draw some comfort from the fact that having different opinions, beliefs and ways of doing things can offer more flavor to everyday life?
While on the topic of hairstyles, I’d be remiss if I didn’t nod to the “perm” I had back when I graduated from college—the same time period during which I weighed over 450 pounds. As shared in my book Weightless: My Life as a Fat Man and How I Escaped, I was a virtual recluse during that part of my life. I was terrified of being judged for not being able to successfully take off the excess weight (no matter how often I’d tried to). And yet somehow I got the courage to venture out of my apartment to get a “perm” hairstyle. I marvel at this now. Because no matter how afraid of people I’d become or how convinced I was that my life was over, I must have had a little hope—symbolized by wanting to affect my looks the only way I could at that time (by getting a new hairstyle).
There may be one day when I look back on having a man bun and shudder. But perhaps it will represent a little bit of courage or—if nothing else—a great sense of humor. (That’ll be my story anyway.)
Looking back aside, I don’t expect my man bun to inspire world peace. In fact, just last week someone assured me that I was encouraging deviant behavior in the form of today’s version of the mullet. That may or may not be true. If so, I’d be the first to laugh. If there’s a way to be a goofball in this life, I’m usually the one to go there (often unintentionally, I assure you). But if having a man bun can remind me to show the same kind of compassion to others that I’d like to receive myself, then everyone wins.
Growing up heavy (okay, fat), I quickly learned the best way to pose for pictures. After all, I knew I was fat, but on some weird level, I must have thought I could hide it (or at the very least minimize it) by positioning myself behind people, furniture or walls.
I’m not sure what, exactly, I thought I was hiding. In retrospect, I guess I was really hiding from myself. After all, I wasn’t being honest with myself in regard to the amount of food (and therefore calories) I was consuming at the time. So why would I be honest with myself about my actual girth?
It’s for this reason that I marvel at the series of pictures taken at my heaviest weight. I knew I wanted to document all 450+ pounds of me as I began my 5,000th (10,000th?) attempt to get rid of the excess weight once and for all. But I’m still surprised that I not only posed people-, furniture- and wall-free, but even appeared without my shirt in one of the shots (stretch marks and all). Of course, these days I’m glad I was brave enough to pose for these pictures. They not only remind me of where I’ve been, but also of where I never want to ‘go’ again.
But there’s something about these photographs (taken when I was at my heaviest) that I find even more fascinating than my size 60-inch waist. Look closely at these shots and you’ll see I had a ‘perm’ in my hair. (And no, I didn’t lose a bet – this is a perm I not only paid for, but wanted.) And it’s this perm from my past that makes me laugh hysterically and cry tears of joy at the same time.
Before going public with my book and blog, I would only show my “Before Pictures” to a precious few. And if I would trot them out, I’d quickly point out the perm in my hair, noting that I was more embarrassed about getting a perm than I was about having boobs that would fit into many of my girlfriends’ bras (and yes, we tried once or twice).
But looking back on the perm, I must applaud my 450+-pound self. At that weight, I was terrified to go out into public and would often even food shop only at night or use only drive-thru windows at fast food restaurants in order to come into contact with as few people as possible. So the fact that I went to my hair stylist and ordered up a perm for something fresh and funky (emphasis on the funky) lets me know that even at 450+ pounds, I had not given up all hope of being part of the human race.
I remember always having a good head of hair on my head. As I kid, I was a sprightly red head, who soon evolved into having more of an auburn color mop top. I remember even at my heaviest that women would sometimes approach me and ask hopefully if my hair was colored and, if so, what hair colorist I went to. (They were usually disappointed when I told them it was all natural.) I suppose that these queries gave me hope at the time. It helped me to realize there was at least one thing about my physical appearance that I could work with in order to try and put my best foot forward.
Fact is, at 450+ pounds I was running out of clothing choices. I couldn’t even find many pant options at my local Big and Tall Stores (my waist had gotten that big). Thus, I’d taken to wearing sweatpants and one of two oversize t-shirts (sold as novelty shirts) that I could fit into. My fashion options had become virtually nonexistent. But damnit, I could control my head of hair. And I was gonna do so by getting a perm, which I guess was in style at the time. So even though I wanted to hide in my apartment for fear of being judged, I went to my salon of choice and ordered up some tightly wound curls.
Look at me, world! My hair is permed! Woohoo! (Now, someone point me to the nearest auditions for the next community theatre production of “Annie.”)
Funny. Sweet. And a little heartbreaking.
But solid proof that I hadn’t completely given up on life. And it’s that ‘not giving up’ that eventually brought me to the point of caring enough about my appearance (and health) to shed my 250 excess pounds and keep it off once and for all.
If you know someone fighting obesity, or if, perhaps, you’re battling it yourself, what do you do for your physical appearance that could compare to my perm? Do you always make sure your nails are manicured? Do you make sure that your hair always looks good? Or are you do you have a shoe collection that would make Imelda Marcos jealous?
Whatever it is, that’s your proof that you care about your appearance (or that your friend cares about his or hers). And this ‘proof of caring’ can be the first step toward committing yourself to lasting and permanent change when it comes to other matters like losing weight and/or getting healthier.
So no matter what goal you have ahead of you (even if it’s a goal that you haven’t quite committed to yet), think about how you can affect your life (and your self-esteem) today. This moment is all you have. So do something that boosts your ego and adds a little pep to your step. These small enhancements can fuel your dreams of achieving all of your goals, whether health or appearance related.
It’s all about showing faith in yourself and making an effort in the present moment. And if I can do it – even with a perm – then you can, too. Isn’t it time you made a perm-anent commitment – to yourself? (If so, please let me know!)