Lack of Inspiration - Bad Title

When your tummy gets all in a knot, and you don’t know how to untie it, what do you do?  Sometimes, my stomach just gets in a knot, and then my attitude turns sour, and I want to shut the world out.  My hair situation is getting so much better. So much so, that I haven’t blogged as much recently because I just have an absense of things to say.  Nothing really is inspiring me to write lately.  Maybe it's because I am on summer holidays, and having to memorize tons of music for my opera program that I am doing later on this summer.  I am really excited about that. But as far as my hair goes, I am doing so much better. It is growing back.  I can’t believe it. I refuse to believe it. But yet, it’s really dark and thick on the top of my head.  And last time I visited the doctor, we decided to do an experiment.  An experiment to see if the stupid and painful steroid shots were actually doing something for my hair.  I didn’t think they were, but he thought they were really helping and he wanted to keep going with them.  So we decided to do a few shots on the left side of my head in a particular bald spot, and see if grows in more than the bald spots that mirrors it on the other side of my head.  I dunno, I had a speech all prepared in my head for when I would see him, and then when I went in, I did my usual routine of taking my wig off, and he just smiled at me, and said it looked amazing, and the treatment was going so well, and blah blah blah. How was I supposed to say, wait a minute, I don’t really like these shots, they hurt and I don’t believe they work?  I just kept my mouth shut for a few minutes, and then I tried to explain how I didn’t like them.  But only, to fail, and end up getting them again. I was so sad.  I thought, for all of my strength that I have, why couldn’t I have told him off?  Maybe because I thought I should believe in what he was seeing, in what everyone else is seeing.  They are seeing black hair on my head.  And what am I seeing?  Bald patches around my ears, and at the back of my head.  A silver tinge to my hair because some hairs are white, and some grey, or translucent.  And it’s so easy to throw on my beautiful wig and forget about it all.  Forget that it happened.  Sometimes I do, and it’s weird because when people compliment my hair, I say thank you with a smile.  Before, I would feel guilty, want to explain my situation, and feel like I didn’t deserve that compliment.  I’m not sure what has changed, and if it is a good change?  I know feeling guilty wasn’t a good feeling to have, but maybe that was more true to myself.  I’m not as afraid to go in public with my short hair that is patchy, it all depends on my mood.  If I am going with someone else I know, then I am fine.  But if I am alone, it is harder for me.  I feel like I shouldn’t make eye contact with people, but you know the worst is over.  The growth is good, so much that people wouldn’t think I was bald at a first glance.  However, I kind of want to shave it.  I want to make it grow back thicker.  I don’t know if that myth is true, about shaved hair growing back stronger, but sometimes if you believe it in your mind, then you seem to make it come true for yourself.  What do you think?  I apologize for not having anything interesting to blog about.  Hopefully something of substance comes to mind in the next week.  At any rate, I still have some confusion about my hair delusion. 

Body Image

Body Image. What is it? The way we think of our bodies. How many people are actually happy with their body? How many people are indifferent, and how many people live their lives trying to change their body, and forget about all of the good things it already does? To be honest, I don’t have the best body image. In fact, that’s one thing I wish I could change about myself.  I wish I could just be carefree about my body, and not worry about whether I got enough workouts in, or whether or not I have eaten well each day. Maybe that is just caring about my body. But what is the difference between poor body image and caring about my body?  The line is fine. It is small, and some people tread so carefully in between.  And it’s all in the eyes of the beholder. An anorexic always is searching for a thinner body, and food is the enemy. How can we find balance. Blah.. I don’t like the word balance. First of all because it is just a bit vague. Is anyone really sure of how much of each part of life is needed to create balance? There are no rules, it’s up to us. Sometimes I like having some rules for things, just to make it all easier. And that’s where certain eating disorders and poor body image ideals come into play. People impose rules on themselves. Since nobody knows really what is right, no one actually knows the correct balance, and then we impose an ideal balance upon ourselves.  We think up different ideas of what we would like for ourselves without considering what is actually possible.  And hence, fad diets, crazy exercise routines, and for me, stress.  Stress seeps up on me covered with an invisible cloak. I am horrible at figuring out if I am stressed or not. Usually, I have some stress if I find myself asking myself if I am stressed.  And then, the other tell tale sign of me being stressed is the weight. I feel like there are these heavy weights that sit right on my chest, in the middle of the part that deflates when I exhale.  The weights don’t move. They sit there, and bug me while I sing, they bug me while I try to sleep at night. The only way for them to leave is through some exercise, talking to someone, and best of all, writing.  What’s stressing me out right now in my life is my public speaking adventure. What if I get laughed at by a group of 13 and 14 year old kids? What if I can’t keep a brave face, and something touches my overly emotional heart and I cry?  And why am I so afraid to break down?  It’s funny how when I was young I thought that older people had no fears. Fears are only for kids to have. But that’s not true. Children are often more fearless. I will mebrace my inner child, and step into a realm of vulnerability.