O.k. I’m going to do something brave.
Something I would have never done before I shaved my head, launched a blog and decided to not let fear dictate my decisions.
I will let you in on one of my secret life joys.
Secret life joy?
Yes, we all have them. These are the things we love but only feel free to indulge in when no one is around to judge, sneer or laugh—because that’s surely what they’d do.
Rapping when your rhymes don’t exactly flow at times; feeling the warmth, curves and squishes places of your body and liking it; really enjoying something delicious (preferably eaten with your hands)—these all fit the bill.
Our secret life joys often happen behind closed doors and we rarely talk about them.
Well today, with a blush, I open that door:
Yesterday, a man rolling a joint on the corner of 23rd and Telegraph looked my way. He was talking on the phone and once the joint was completed he began walking towards me. “Hey, hey!” he called in my direction. I prepared myself for that awkward exchange where I say I don’t have any money even though I maybe do.
But instead …
“I like your hairstyle,” he said. “Oh, thanks,” I nonchalantly replied.
Wait … What did he say? REALLY? REALLY?? “He likes my hairstyle?” I had never heard this before. “I like your hair,” sure. Style? It rang of choice and expression.
In the days leading up to “the cut” I began to look at women differently.
On the Bart, in my dance classes, passing them on the street, I imagined them all without hair. I looked closely. Eyes, lashes, the curve of the neck, the bridge of the nose, collarbones—without hair would they still be beautiful? For that matter, could I? This compulsive examining became a great source of reassurance.
Little seeds of knowing nestle in all of us.
We usually don’t know what they contain, and some of us don’t even know they are there. But they are. And when circumstances align one sprouts or, as is often the case, erupts catching us by surprise.
I experience this like a firework through my body, electric and alive.