I'm so scatty tonight! It's ridiculous. I finished work and went straight out to uni, to continue working prior to my 8am meeting with my supervisor; but the witching-hour caught up with me at about 7.00pm, and all focus was well and truly lost to the night.
So, what is it about hair colour? It seems so freaking arbitrary to me. I mean, why should a different hair colour change anything much?
I suppose the recent post on the issue of 'Confidence' from my own, dear friend, has inspired this post of mine; a meditation on what maketh a woman.
I've been asked a few times, why I refer to myself, and my blog, with the very loaded (and engendered, and stereotypical) term of 'Doll'.
The word has become a function to me; it has the weight of memory, history, 'pop-culture', and my own very distinct defintion. Humour me whilst I elaborate....
1. My Dad, and numerous Boyfriends-Past, have often called me 'Dolly' and/or 'Doll-Face'. I've pondered this so much, that I can no longer argue for the feminist repurcussions of the term, and I have long understood it to be (in my case), a term of endearment and love.
2. My favourite movie musical is 'Hello Dolly', with Barbara Streisand et el. To this day, it is the only thing I crave to watch when I am sick, or just feeling down.... watch it, and tell me if the opening doesnt make you realise that anything is possible.
3. I love dolls. I was a 'Barbie' child. I played for hours with my dolls. And my current use of the word is flavoured by the many times I spent playing dress-ups, and 'imagining' 'Utopias' with my dolls, when my real life proved way too loud for me.
4. Lets cut to the flipping chase.... I've long had my own definition of 'Doll'.
To me, a 'Doll' is a woman whose innate authenticity has seen her wage the tummult of life; scars, sorrows, mis-guided loves, hopes, fears, sickness and spirituality; in a body that has been gifted specifically for the journey she must make while she is here. I, quietly, and mindfully, refer to my dearest female friends as 'dolls'.
As far as blogging goes, I count this woman, Melissa, as a doll, and this woman, Pink Patent Mary Janes, as a doll... because they have been such dear friends to me in cyberspace. Also my darling Anna, and Mel; friends who are searching themselves, and who have so kindly extended their shoulders for me to cry upon, and have shared their 'time' and love with me.
A 'Doll' is, in my mind; a woman who is authentically her own. A woman who lives her life fully; in the knowledge that we will all be accountable for what we have been, and what we have done, whilst we were here.
And... to get back to the essence of this... 'Confidence', to me, is changing your hair colour at whim, repeatedly, just cause you wanted to. We are here for such a short time; and, dammit; there are so many colours to get through yet:
This was 'me' - at 26...
And this is me, now. At 27. Many shades closer to 'me'; but with so many questions still to be answered. And with many, many different shades of hair still to go.
'Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.'
- Rumi.
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