I have worked really hard in therapy on my self-confidence and self-worth, but it is not a switch that flips on and you are just suddenly perfectly healed. The wounds are deep and the doubts are plaguing. That voiceespeciallyloves to try and take away the good things in life when they are trying to take root.
Taking some deep breaths, I steady myself. I am spiraling, and I need to get it together. I pull out my journal for this yearand decide to write about tonight. I don’t want to forget the good, the happy, the wild butterflies. From the flowers to the extra cheese bread, which Remington insisted I keep the leftovers to snack on while I work from home, to the stunning sunset and raw conversation.
After writing it all down, I know that I didn’t imagine or fabricate our connection. There must be a reason he didn’t kiss me. Remington is thoughtful, the most thoughtful man I have ever met. Maybe he wants to take this slow, not rush things and scare me off? I am sure that he thinks I’m like a baby fawn, ready for fight, flight, or freeze after all the things he’s learned about me.
The last thing I feel around Remington is afraid. He makes me want to do things for myself, including opening up to a man that has the power to break me or bring me to life. The only way to find out is by taking the chance. And after tonight, I know he is worth it ... as long as he still thinks that I am as well.
Brett always wanted me to keep my hair long. It falls just under my shoulder blades right now. It’s thick, heavy, and I have not really changed it much my whole life. I wanted to do things to it so many times over the years, but I knew it would be overly critiqued and fussed over by my mother and deeply criticized by my father. Once I told Brett I was considering getting a shoulder-length bob-style cut, and he was mortified. I wanted something fresh and different. He told me that it would not look good with my face shape, and it would limit my options for styles when we had formal events in and around DC. We had only ever been at the one charity eventtogether that we met at, but he acted like we needed to be ready at all times to rub elbows with big executives and politicians at the drop of a hat. I felt so much shame and disappointment. That was the last time I brought it up, and I ignored the massive red flag waving right in front of me with his controlling nature and the expectation to be an ornament on Brett’s arm like my mother had always been for my father.
I was so stupid for so long, letting these awful people control, manipulate, and dictate so many of my decisions, worried about their opinions and optics. I was D-O-N-E with that. Lainey 2.0 doesn’t let anyone decide these things, and I need to shake up my life a little bit. Apparently, according to other girlies, haircuts can make you ready to take on the world. I didn’t necessarily need that much power, but I did want a boost to take on my own life. They also say hair holds memories, and like the clothes I was donating, I was ready to let go of more things holding me back.
That new attitude had me marching into Dip and Dye the morning after my date with Remington, ready to meet up with my bestie Kendra. She works here at the salon, and also runs her side business for her pottery through Etsy. She is hoping that she can sell some things locally soon and cut back on her shipping costs. I love her work so much, and being her best friend comes with the perks of being gifted beautiful mugs whenever she is trying out new designs. My cupboard is filled with one-of-a-kind Kendra Powell creations. And today I am finally ready to let her get creative with my hair, something she’s been begging me to do for years. She might totally pass out when I tell her I am not here for just my usual split-ends trim!
I also need to catch her up on all things Remington. The last time I gave her a text update I had downloaded her on my embarrassment of a bonfire, and I purposely left out some key details ... like texting with Remington, our insane connection,the flowers, and everything else since then. Kendra is the only person in my life that I am myself with, but even with her I keep things closed-up sometimes. We met when I moved to town, and it was like our souls recognized each other instantly. She grabbed on to me with both of her little, strong hands, literally and figuratively, and never let me go.
Her big, boisterous, artsy personality is perfectly her, and sometimes it can overwhelm me when I need time to think about things. I needed to have time to process my feelings about Remington and decide what I really wanted. I know that after my spiral last night I made the right call in waiting to tell her about all the details. Relying on myself and my own mind to sort things out feels scary but necessary right now. Journaling helped, and now I am ready for Kendra to add her perspective.
The whimsical chime of the salon signals my arrival as I push through the door. There are only a pair of older ladies toward the front getting their hair done and chatting quietly. Kendra turns from her station with a huge bright smile. Her unruly blonde curls, streaked with bright pink, are barely contained in a claw clip, make-up done to perfection. A trendy jumpsuit in navy hugs her petite curves perfectly, and a pair of cute pink Converse complete the look. Her five-two frame is three inches shorter than mine, but her personality often makes her feel much taller when she gets excited and starts bouncing around.
“Heyyyyy!” she sing-songs. “I am so glad your morning meetings were canceled! We are so dead in here this morning, and I need some girl time, girl!”
Striding over to her I give her a hug and say, “Me, too. I have some things to catch you up on.”
“Oh, realllllly? You have been holding out on me, your very best friend on this perfect planet?! What gives?” She fakes her annoyance.
I smirk and roll my eyes. “Well for one thing, you know I love you, and you will always be my number one. I just needed to process some things ... and I also made some important decisions.”
The cheerful teasing drops off Kendra quickly, like I just splashed her with a bucket of water. “What? Are you okay? Are you moving? What happened?” Concern is laced in every question she shoots at me in rapid-fire succession.
“Deep breath, bestie! I am doing good,” I reassure her with a smile. “The first thing I want to tell you is that I have made a major hair decision, and I am ready for you to make it happen.”
Kendra drops her worried hands from her cheeks and lets out a squeal that I swear dogs in the next town could probably hear. The two other old ladies in the salon are probably going to have to reset their hearing aids if they have any. “Are you pulling an April Fool’s joke on me right now?”
Laughing I say, “Noooooo, it’s still March. Also you know I can’t stand that ‘holiday,’ so I would never do that to you.”
“True! Okay, tell me ev-er-y-thing! What made you finally decide to change things up? What are you wanting to do?” Excitement buzzes over Kendra like a wave of bees ready for her twitching hands to attack my head the second I say go. I would be slightly terrified if I didn’t know that she was so talented at everything she does, including wielding her shiny shears.
“Remember when I wanted a long bob, and Brett told me it was a bad idea?” I ask, frowning.
Glowering, Kendra scrunches up her nose, slams a hand on her hip, and rolls her eyes at me. “And remember that I toldyouhe was an asshole and had no idea what he was talking about. Fuck him.”
“Exactly. Let’s do it. I want you to do the bob, with long layers on the ends.” I can’t help but smile and feel proud ofmyself as I lock in my choice. It feels good to do this for myself and only myself.
“Shoulder length?” Kendra asks, remembering what I wanted from previous conversations.
“Yeah, I want it to barely brush them.” I show her with my hands.
“Let’s freaking do this!” Kendra claps and pushes me to the washing station. It is like I told her she just won the lottery. I know that as happy as she is to cut my hair, she also knows this is a big step for me. She tips me back and wets my hair with the perfectly warm water in the deep sink. I love this part, when she massages my head and I can close my eyes and just be for a few minutes. The honey scent of my favorite shampoo, which Kendra knows I prefer, floats through the air as she says, “I need to know what else has been going on with you. You told me you havethingsto catch me up on. We didn’t have our wine night this week, and as HUGE as this hair sitch is, I know there’s more, right?”
“Thereismore,” I sigh, and peek open my eyes to see her bright silvery-blue eyes looking at me expectantly while she works the lather through my long locks one last time. “So, do you remember the firefighter?”
“Uhhhhh you mean the hot-as-fuck hottie that saved your cute pyro butt and took your journal? How could I forget? I have been dying to know what happened. Did he give you back the journal?”
“No, no, he hasn’t had nearly enough time to transfer over what was written. But a looooot more has happened.” Kendra rinses my conditioner, wrings out my hair, and wraps a towel around my head. She tips up my chair with a practiced ease and we make our way back to her station. Sitting down, I settle in for what comes next—my hair transformation and catching my best friend up on all thingsRemington LeBlanc.
An hour and a half later I feel lighter. I feel settled inmyself. Cutting off my hair really did give me a huge boost and pep to my confidence. When Kendra spun me around dramatically in her chair, because of course she wouldn’t let me see a damn thing until she was done, which included a full blowout and soft beach waves, my jaw dropped. I looked like me, but a me that was ...more.
It was like I cut off the dead weight and expectations of others that I was carrying. I let go of a piece of myself that I was holding on to so tightly, trying to please everyone other than myself. My head felt lighter, my neck felt less stiff, and my smile hasn’t left my face.
