Little Birdie

All the descriptions of my personality type include words like unique, creative, and artistic to describe the way a lot of 4’s dress. Until recently, I haven’t really felt that way about myself and it’s been kind of a condemning thing for me. Why can’t I express myself in the way I dress? Why do I always feel the need to blend in, hide, and become as insignificant as possible?

Well, I’m happy to report, that’s not really true anymore! I’ve noticed over the past year or so that I have branched out considerably in the colors I wear. I used to be very conservative and always wear shades of neutral or black, and hardly any jewelry. That started to change last year when God began healing me and drawing the real me out. I still hesitate in the style of clothes I wear, and I love jeans more than anything, but now my jeans have sequins or rhinestones and embroidery on them. My shirts are bright and bold. My jewelry is big and loud. I wear purple eyeliner and I have red streaks in my hair (that need to be re-done). I have discovered that orange is my favorite color…and not that peachy quiet orange either. I like contrasts, and I like colors that pop.

I like the un-stifled me. Not that there’s more in there wanting to get out, but God is slowly leading me and always working in me

Since I couldn’t quite let myself chop all my hair off and dye it magenta so I’d look like a pixie, I did the next best thing….red highlights. Yep, I’m red. Pics coming soon.

I did this once in college when I was first feeling the need to express who I felt I was inside. I got a few friends to do it with me. I went strawberry blonde, one of those 21-day rinse out jobs….and it lasted 6 months. My grandmother mistook me for my mother’s first cousin Ann. It was an interesting experience.

This time I didn’t do the full-blown job. I didn’t really want my whole head to be red. Just some streaks that I thought said “hey, I’m in here somewhere.” I wanted to take an entire chunk and dye it bright bright magenta, but deep down I didn’t want to draw that kind of attention to myself.

Part of the 4 in me always screams out for attention, but when I get it, I don’t want it. My friend hit the nail on the head tonight when she said the reason I don’t want to draw attention to myself is because I don’t like the way I look. It’s true. I’m still fat, I’m still insecure, yet I yearn for people to take notice of my unique-ness. It’s weird. Pay attention to me leave me alone.

Does that make me emo? Maybe I should have dyed my hair magenta with a big black streak in it instead…