"Knowing what I know now, about God and His Sovereignty...
Somewhere there is a heart willing to listen to this story about this little girl, orange carpet, hollyhocks, a small town ...and violence. Somewhere there is surely someone who will read Your story and see the Grace and Mercy in your life...and God will use you to touch that person, for His Glory.

Your story touches my heart, Pat "

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Pretty Girls and Pixies

Pixie- 1) short hair, close to the head, around the top of the ear to ear lobe at longest length, boyish cut
           2) small human-like tricksters that lead people astray, similar to fairies

Around the age of 6 my mother wanted me to get a pixie. I hated them and didn't want one. My hair was around shoulder length but I agreed to get it trimmed, since I had loudly protested against the pixie, I thought we were in agreement.

Some time that same year my grandmother took me to pick out a dress. It was the high end children's clothing store, the one we could never otherwise afford.
 I tried on a blue sailors dress with a crisp white collar that had blue anchors on the tips. It had a pleated skirt that fluttered and whirled when I spun.
I wanted that dress, but walked home broken hearted without it. Too short.
I cried some, whined a lot, and plotted like a pixie on how to get grandma to turn around and get it.
I must have twirled that skirt in my head a hundred times.



At our home was a staircase ,at the end of that staircase was a gold mirror and in that mirror was a sobbing girl with a pixie haircut. It seems when the beautician turned the chair around my mother whispered her plan for my hair and since she was the parent it superseded mine.
I cried for hours, I yelled, I hated it.
I was so mad, how could she do that.
It was only hair but I remember being completely exhausted from crying over it.

Years later, the gold mirror is gone but the disappointed crying little girl still peers in.
Now it is more
a bad hair day
ugly clothes that fit too tight
wrinkles
ugh
I stand there and envy girls that can wear pretty dresses and twirl in them, not dying of embarrassment if that skirt went flying up.
Those pretty girls with pretty faces, long flowing hair and lacy dresses, do they ever cry when they look in the mirror?
of course they do.

Something within women wants to be loved, accepted, valued and pretty. To be special.
A single friend of mine once said, "I  want a man that makes me feel like a girl."

I want to be a girl.
I want to be pretty.
It seems I spend so much time thinking, if I ate less.....exercised more....then I would be, duh....

but then the reality of crunching cookies and hours on the couch crash in.
Fantasy interrupted.
Kind of like when your hair is long and flowing....you chop it off, and wonder why you did it.
I know pretty is not only about the outside. Our identity is not only the way we look...I just wish the pixie inside me would stop showing up in the mirror.

6 comments:

mudderbear said...

This is so sad, I just want to cry. If only your mother knew how much it affected you. Who cares if the skirt is a bit short?? Why cut your hair if you don't want to, especially since you were compromising so nicely??? I suppose we all have terrible tales to tell, but you break my heart.
I will admit to being rather easy-going with my own girls. Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't my duty to be more strict, but even now, I don't see any reason *why*. Children are so fragile. And years later, when they tell you what they were thinking at the time, then you understand, but it's kinda late for that.

Ava said...

Shannon...I'm similar to you in so many ways. Thank you for writing this, it forces me to confront my own demons. I think if you don't work on these things they keep rearing they're heads. You write like a master xx Ava

Ames said...

You are right, it was a mean thing to do, cutting your hair so short. Sounds like she did it for her convenience, not wanting to worry about tangles and snarls that need to be brushed out of a little girl's hair. I always loved my little girl's hair. I would braid it and style it, but never cut it. I know it's years to late, but here's a hug for you!~Ames

Shelia said...

Oh Shannon! I can feel your heartache, even after all of these years! Parents mean well but sometimes do things that can be hurtful.
Just want you to know - you are something special and God loves you! You are unique to yourself and hopefully it helps to write down your heartaches. I pray those memories will continually fad away.
Thank you so much for popping in to see me.
Be a sweetie,
Shelia ;)

Karen said...

Shannon, once again, tears were shed here for you. I know the pain, oh, too well. I had long hair, almost to my waist, until the summer before 4th grade when my father decided to let my brother's wife 'cut that crap off'. (She was in cahoots with him, I detest that woman to this day!) I didn't want it cut and cried through the entire process. By the time she was done, I had hair even with the top of my ears with a tiny fringe of 1/2" long bangs--I looked like a monk. All she had to do was shave a bald spot in the back and I could have joined a monastery, it was awful. And that summer, I also got my first pair of horn-rimmed glasses and went back to school looking like a total and complete NERD. My sisterinlaw said I looked 'cute' and called it a Page Boy haircut, my father said, "There. You look decent at least." I wanted to die.

The girl looking back from my mirror didn't resemble me any more. And ever since, I have worn my hair long (but it never grew back to the length it had been.)

When I cried, my father became very angry and told me to get out of his sight until I could quit my blubbering, he said I made him sick. He had no clue what he had just made me. My mother had stood by and let it happen, too, though she was powerless over his decrees. I think my father did know it was a mistake because he said 'Your hair will grow back eventually, so just Shut UP!'

I did, but just like you...they killed a part of me that day. My hair was all I had.

Sorry to write a book here; your stories are just so gut-wrenching and way, way too similar to mine. Eerily similar. You're a survivor, dear Shannon, and I look up to you!

❀~Myrna~❀ said...

I am praying for you Shannon.Your story is very moving.
Love & Prayers