Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognise the person who is looking back at me. I wish I knew her limits and her nuances. Because all I do is throw her into situations she cannot control and then she is overwhelmed and drowns, flails, struggling to breathe.
I changed my foundation the other day. I thought the shade of Deep Cool 9C would blend with me but it was too chalky and baked. Now I wear Espresso 10C – the deepest, darkest shade of their range. It blends seamlessly. I didn’t know I was that dark but voila. I guess I am wearing my soul on my skin. And even then, the edges don’t quite mesh with my outer face. My complexion is not entirely flush so I am lighter in some places, particularly near my hairline.
My edges have been shaped by a razor this past week. After undergoing the Big Chop, I had my relaxed ends shaved and was left with a boy cut. India Arie said I Am Not My Hair but I digress, the hair that crowns my head is an Xpression of who I am. Obsidian black, chestnut brown and incredibly coiled – tougher in some places than others… rough around the edges. Some days I will wear virgin hair as a weave or wig: straight and flowy when I am feeling corporate, wavy when in the mood for adventure.
Since I don’t know how to express the emptiness I will keep up appearances.