As I sat on the swivel chair in front of the oversized mirror and watched inches of my identity fall to the floor, a sharp shooting pain coursed through my head. The overly tanned blonde with flappy skin in a polka dot shirt circled my chair indifferently. She talked about her cat. I smiled. I worried that I’d lost my earring somewhere in the salon, (probably in the sink and down the drain). Another inch fell to the ground. Sharper pain in the head. My earring.
I can’t believe how my neurosis blossomed as I sat in that chair for a simple haircut. I bounced between stroke and lost earring with every sweep of the scissors.
It made me realize that I use hypochondria as a vice. As an escape. I use hypochondria to drown out the real world and real world problems. After all, if I have a stroke, I don’t have to live with a bad hair cut, or even find out how bad it is.
As soon as I realized the cut was okay, the stroke symptoms faded. The earring was a non-concern. I had to fight myself from scheduling another appointment right then and there. But, I guess that’s life for a neurotic extremist with hypochondria.
Next time, I’ll leave my earrings at home.
3 comments:
Did you really lose the earring? Maybe next time you should wear huge doorknockers! I'd dare you to lose one of those!
Only in my mind Sean, only in my mind.
It sounds like you had a realization...aren't those fun? I just wish I knew what to do with them once they're 'realized'. I'm glad that you were able to get through the haircut, be PROUD of yourself! WHen I get haircuts I tell the person when I make the appointment that I'm stressing about it and if they're nice they will ususally recommend someone for you that will understand. Take care,
Addie
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