when imperfections and beauty intertwine

Lucy: That was awful.

Aslan: But you chose it, Lucy.

Lucy: I didn't mean to choose all of that. I just wanted to be beautiful like Susan. That's all.

Aslan: You wished yourself away, and with that, much more. Your brothers and sister wouldn't know Narnia without you, Lucy. You discovered it first, remember?



Lucy: I'm so sorry.



Aslan: You doubt your value. Don't run from who you are.

{Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader}

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This past Saturday, I got my hair cut.  I didn’t want to because I have been trying to grow my hair out for what feels like forever.  But the ends were looking kind of gnarly and they desperately needed a trim.  So I made an appointment and went in and the deed was done.  I went about my day just fine until the evening came and I sat in front of the mirror in my room to closely examine what had been done.

That was when I noticed that my hair appeared so much shorter than it looked in the salon.  Even though I just went in for a trim, I felt like my hair had been hacked away and my beauty with it.  I thought of how Ethan told me I shouldn’t even get a trim because he likes to see my hair grow long.  I had wanted to look perfect when I would finally see him again after 3 weeks of being apart and I wondered what he would think.  I wondered if he would think I was still beautiful.

In a state of panic, I curled my hair, waved it, put it up, down--tried anything and everything to make it look longer and more beautiful.

As you can imagine, nothing worked and pretty soon, there was nothing left to do except cry.

So I did.  I lay in bed and lost tears and sleep over a trimmed head of hair.  Except it was more than just trimmed hair I was crying about.  My fears and insecurities and lack of understanding of what true beauty looks like poured out onto my pillow along with my tears. 

I didn’t sleep much that night or the night after.  I spent good chunks of time online looking for cheap hair extensions with absolutely no luck.  On Monday evening, I finally gave up.  I decided to stop looking in the mirror and wishing for something that can’t be and to just rock my wee-bit-shorter do.

Then, last night, I went to the mall to look for shoes and what did I stumble across?  A little vendor with an array of clip-in hair extensions...and cheap ones to boot!  I spent a good 45 minutes with the woman at the stand, playing with different types of extensions and colors.  Right as the mall was about to close, I walked out with the perfect set of long, luscious, dark brown hair extensions.  They are just gorgeous and I felt satisfied and pleased with my purchase.

Of course, I came home and put them on and played with them and combed them and smiled as I imagined all the possibilities of having long hair—fake or otherwise.

But the more I looked at myself with my fake long hair, the more I felt kind of sick—because the person in the reflection no longer looked or felt like me.

So I unclipped the hair extensions and hung them up neatly before climbing into bed and smiled because I never knew that hair extensions could teach me so much.

I never knew they could make me wonder how celebrities do it—how they masquerade around in their fake tans with their fake boobs and spend thousands on botoxed cheeks and lips.  I never knew they could make me finally reject the idea of getting breast implants (I have been seriously considering them for about a year now).  I had no idea that they would teach me about the person I am.

But they did. Because while those hair extensions made me feel beautiful, they also made me feel some alternate, dishonest version of myself--a copycat who just wasn’t living up to the task.

Sometimes I wish myself away.  I look at girls in magazines and on billboards and think, “If only I could look like her…”  There will always be that woman with better boobs, better legs, fuller lips, and tighter abs.  But those hair extensions taught me that I don’t want that so much anymore.  I’d rather wake up every morning in this imperfect body than in some perfect body somewhere else, only to find out that the physical Charla I’ve come to know has ceased to exist.  The curve of my hips and the shortness of my legs and the green of my eyes are the home for my soul.  I wouldn’t be me without them and I now know that I wouldn’t change them.  Not for anything, even perfection.  Because if ever I was perfect, I wouldn’t quite be me.

That doesn’t mean I won’t wear my hair extensions.  Oh, I will wear them—I will rock the heck out of them, those hair extensions.

But I’m thankful that they’re clip-ins.  I love that part at the end of the day where I can shed off all that stuff that I no longer want to carry with me into the evening.  And you can bet your bottom dollar that those extensions will be part of that.

And this weekend, after a long day out with Ethan, I will tuck my fake hair away while we curl up together to watch movie after movie.  There, I will rest in the arms of my human love and in the peace of Divine Love and I will be beautiful—short hair and all.



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"Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious."

{1 Peter 3:3-4}