Now, this post isn’t about the change you get while buying groceries or other things. It’s about the “Change is the only thing that’s constant,” saying that we have all heard at some point in our lives.
All my life I’ve been so sure that I have always welcome change in my life, rejoiced in it even, but today as I thought over it, I’m not so sure. All of a sudden, I see myself as this staunch, rigid, unchanging person who says she is willing to take risks but puts it down to laziness that she isn’t taking any.
One example is how touchy I am with my hair. Until fifth grade, I always sported a short boy-cut hairdo. But I grew out my hair from fifth grade until eighth grade before my mum left to work abroad and we cut it off because I was too young to tie my own plaits (braids) and my school mandated two plaits or ponytails. But my hair grew, as time passed, and I was too excited (puberty and adolescence) to chop it off again. But unfortunately, I took a bit too much stress during my Boards and most of it fell out. So from having a bushy head of hair, akin to Hermione’s in the first movie, I went to a slightly normal volume of hair. But the change was unexpected and certainly not welcome, not when people kept telling me, “Oh, you had so much hair, what happened?” I know what happened, just shut up.
And after bungling through the first and second junior college years with shoulder length hair which did not co-operate one bit with me, I finally chopped off my hair to a shorter length last summer. And I love it. And now it’s growing again and I can’t stand it. A friend asked me why I didn’t straighten it, I refused saying that I’d already associated straight, sleek hair with girls who were really mean. [An all girls school can create several prejudices hard to shake.]
I have seen so many of the people I knew in junior college go far away, to different cities, countries, hell, different continents to study further. And they have all accepted the new beginning of their lives. They’ve changed their looks, their wardrobe, their attitudes, almost always to something to better than their previous ones. But I haven’t been able to.
And I think I have finally figured out why. I am afraid of change because I feel that changing myself would not be being true to myself, that I was forcing myself to change so people would like me better or that I fit in better, but most importantly, I would not be changing for myself.
Changing something as important as my dreams or something trivial as my hairstyle scares me that I am not being true to myself anymore. It’s like I am destroying a little eleven year old’s dream of a girl who didn’t change to conform to society. I’m shattering her dream that she grows up real and not someone who has to lie and change her appearance to be liked by others. And that she has friends who will support her no matter what she chooses to change in her life, her hairstyle, her dream or her choice of a favorite song.
And I’ve done one of the three, I suppose, and the one that is most important. I’ve found friends who will support me in whatever I do and who will not say a word when my hair is out of place, or if I have black smudge on my nose because they don’t care that I look perfect when I sit next to them in the foyer or in the arches.
Just that I share my food with them.
Until next time,