Updated: June 19, 2023
Originally Published: June 17, 2023
As I settle into the salon chair, my new stylist, Jamie, asks, “So, how have you been?” After a refreshing shampoo, I feel somewhat exposed, but I try to brush it off. “I’m okay,” I reply, “I recently started medication, so there’s that.” Trying to avoid awkwardness is not my strong suit.
To her credit, Jamie nods as if this is a typical conversation for hairdressers and clients. I wonder if it actually is. Being new to this rapport, I find her easy to talk to; she has a sharp sense of humor and politely overlooks my frizzy hair as she styles it.
I lost my last stylist similarly to how I lost my mother. Though Jamie doesn’t share the same deep connection with me, that bond from someone who has cared for my entire family made the loss of my previous stylist more impactful than the one of my own mother, at least initially. I remember standing in the packed funeral home, surrounded by people she had touched, and I questioned how one could feel so isolated amidst such love.
“By the way, how’s the medication treating you?” Jamie asks, breaking my reverie. I glance at her reflection in the mirror, avoiding my own. “It’s good. I’m gaining some weight, I guess that happens,” I say, somewhat sheepishly.
My doctor and sister—who, along with medical dramas, form the entirety of my health knowledge—say antidepressants often lessen the relentless pressure to remain thin. The idea that when we’re hungry, we simply eat, or when we’d rather binge-watch a show than hit the gym, it’s okay to choose comfort over discomfort.
“Crazy, right?” I tell her, and then I blurt out something that surprises us both: “You know, I think I’d prefer to be happy and a little heavier than skinny and sad.”
There’s a moment of silence as Jamie processes my words. I, too, am astonished to realize I genuinely mean it. I would rather choose happiness.
While this may seem like a no-brainer to many, I suspect it’s not as straightforward for everyone. Throughout my life, I’ve witnessed countless women grappling with these choices. With every magazine cover, TV show, and curated Instagram feed, I’ve seen strong, confident women, yet also an overwhelming number of voices promoting products that promise to change who we are, making us feel inadequate and unworthy.
I’ve lived in that space of self-doubt for years, telling myself lies about my worth until they became the backdrop of my daily existence. Entering that dark place at 16, I anchored myself firmly there, scared to venture out.
Yet, I’ve started experimenting with reframing my thoughts. Instead of thinking, “I look terrible,” I challenge myself to say, “I appreciate this body.” It’s not just about body image; it extends to all areas of life. For instance, “I should be at home with my kids” can transform into “I’m grateful for this job that provides for us.”
Can a simple shift in perspective lead to a personal revolution? I believe it can. All significant changes start somewhere, and nurturing self-love is a profound foundation to begin.
“If you’re serious about this,” Jamie finally says, reflecting my own thoughts back to me, “then that’s a significant realization.” As I gaze into the mirror, old insecurities bubble to the surface, but I recognize the opportunity lies within those thoughts. I remind myself to appreciate this moment of connection—this time to relax and chat.
Driving home, I run my fingers through my styled hair and think of my former stylist, Anna, who called me after my mother passed away. We spent hours talking about everything and nothing, and it was a conversation I cherished. After her passing, I often replayed that moment, wondering if I could have done more. But then I pause and think, “I am grateful for the time we had.” This feels more authentic than the guilt I had been holding onto.
I know there’s more to explore on this journey of healing, and I’m just beginning. I’m starting small, focusing on the neck roll as a metaphor for my current state, and gradually working towards forgiveness and perhaps, one day, embracing a life filled with love and joy.
Let’s be clear: my life is not extraordinary because I’m special; it’s extraordinary because of my willingness to embrace vulnerability, just as Anna and my mother did. We all have the potential for love and connection, but we must be willing to open ourselves to it.
Each moment of reframing is a step towards change, and yes, medication plays a role too.
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In summary, reframing my thoughts has become a vital part of my healing journey. It allows me to embrace happiness over superficial standards and to appreciate every moment, no matter how small.