As I take my seat at the salon, my new hairdresser, Mia, asks, “So, how have you been?” She just washed my hair, creating an unexpectedly intimate moment. Trying to ease the awkwardness, I respond, “I’m okay. I started some new medication. So there’s that.” Being at ease is a challenge for me.
Mia nods as if discussing medication is a common topic during hair appointments. I’m not sure if it is, but I appreciate her relaxed demeanor. I find her wit refreshing, and she kindly overlooks my messy hair and the fact that I tend to sweat when she styles it.
I lost my previous hairdresser in a way that felt akin to losing a family member. Her connection to me was deep, having cared for my family’s hair over the years, yet not so close that I had to navigate her personal struggles. Her passing affected me profoundly, often feeling more impactful than the loss of my own mother. During her funeral, surrounded by those she had touched, I pondered how someone could feel so isolated amid such love. How do we lose our way?
Mia then asks, “And how’s that going for you?”
I glance at her reflection in the mirror, trying to focus on anything but my own image, especially the way the cape fits snugly around my neck, emphasizing my insecurities. “Good. I’m good,” I say, then accidentally meet my own gaze. “I’m gaining some weight, though. I guess that’s normal?”
I’ve heard that from my doctor and my sister, who, along with popular shows, make up most of my medical knowledge. They say antidepressants can dull the relentless drive to stay slim, allowing us to eat when we’re hungry and skip the gym now and then, especially when a new season of our favorite show is available.
I share this thought with Mia, and then I say something that surprises us both: “You know, I think I’d rather be happy and a little bigger than skinny and sad.”
Mia pauses, perhaps expecting me to take it back or laugh it off. But I realize I genuinely mean it. I’d choose happiness over a narrow definition of beauty any day.
This may seem like common sense to many, but I know it’s not that straightforward for everyone. I’ve seen enough media portrayals of women to recognize that for every confident individual, there are countless others pushing diets, fitness fads, and conflicting parenting advice.
I’ve lived in that space of self-doubt and negativity for most of my life, where I repeated harmful narratives about my worth and appearance. I settled into that mindset at sixteen and made it my home, becoming afraid to leave it. The thought of embracing a new normal, of feeling comfortable in my skin, still terrifies me.
Yet, I’m trying. I’m wearing this new perspective like a pair of shoes that need breaking in. Whenever I catch myself thinking something negative—about my body, my choices, or my life—I pause.
I breathe.
And I reframe.
What once sounded like “I look terrible” transforms into “I appreciate this body.” “I need to punish myself with exercise” shifts to “I love how movement feels.” It’s not just about body image; it extends deeper. “I should be home with my kids” can evolve into “I’m grateful for this job that supports us.” Or “I need to clean” can be recast as “Look at the life we’ve built here.”
Could a simple shift in perspective spark a revolution? Absolutely. I believe that every significant change begins with a seed of self-love, and nurturing that seed can lead to extraordinary transformations.
“If you’re serious about that,” Mia says, validating my realization, “that’s a really big deal.”
I force myself to look in the mirror again. The familiar insecurities arise, but I recognize an opportunity within those thoughts. I reflect on the time spent with Mia, on the comfort of this moment, and instead of critiquing my tired look, I consider that it could also mean I’m relaxed. What a blessing that is.
Driving home, I run my fingers through my shorter hair, recalling my former hairdresser. I remember the evening after my mother passed when I talked to her for hours about everything and nothing. I often revisit that conversation, wishing I could have done more. But instead of dwelling on regret, I reframe it: “I’m so grateful I had that time with her.” This realization feels more genuine than anything else I’ve thought recently.
I’m just beginning this journey of healing, starting with my insecurities and working towards forgiveness. My goal is to embrace the love surrounding me, even when it feels obscured by negativity.
Let me be clear: I don’t have a life full of love because I am extraordinary; I experience it despite my flaws. Like my former hairdresser, like my mother before me, we all possess the potential for love that can be both beautiful and intimidating. It means we must open ourselves to the extraordinary, revolutionizing our lives one reframed thought at a time.
(And yes, medication helps.)
For more insights into navigating this journey, check out this resource on pregnancy and our guide on home insemination. Also, visit Make a Mom for expert advice on your fertility journey.
Summary
This article discusses the transformative power of reframing thoughts in the context of self-acceptance and mental health. The author shares a personal experience during a visit to a new hairdresser, where she reflects on her journey through grief, self-doubt, and the importance of choosing happiness over societal expectations. By cultivating self-love and embracing a new perspective, we can find healing and connection in our lives.