Killing the Ego

Among the 18 prayer pouches I created and set free into the sacred Winter Solstice fire was an intention to become aware of my ego.

Ego is taking control at the moment. I'm getting my hair bleached and it burns. This is sick, silly, stupid.

I awaited the appointment for a few moments near the shampoo sinks and watched the hair stylist-savior apply highlights to two women at a time. He and his assistant marched to and fro dispensing foil strips and dollops of bleach in modest rows of female hair follicle.

They marched one by one whipping in tandem plastic measuring bowls squirts of lift, lighten, glow and ego boost.

It was my turn and we discuss the risks of going blond: my original albeit spontaneous intention. Brown was every other day of the past 30 years. Apparently it's my intention to call attention. Blond, I decide.

He worked the purple goo into my scalp and covered it under plastic to keep it warm. It tingled at first then the sensation ceased.

He left me to write, to literally reflect in the 30-foot wall-to-wall mirror.

Gone was some of the anxiety that had been churning my stomach this week. Gone was the fear of being mistaken for the beaten and bruised trailer park whore twin of Eminem.

"The state of bliss is constant, unaffected by gain or loss." That's what a tiny piece of paper propped against a model of the Sears Tower inside my medicine cabinet reminds me every time I open it to brush my teeth.

Tehro, the stylist-savior, checked on me.
"When your natural color starts coming in," he started, then I interrupted, "I'll bring it back to brown."
"You don't want to go blond one more time?
"If you let me take some pictures of you for my portfolio we'll have Mandy put some makeup on you and take a few pictures. I'll do it again complimentary."

I never even considered that after my bestie gave me a very poor bleach job that I would receive a silver lining of a modeling gig of sorts.

I am feeling better already.

Funny how that works. I'm just completely immersed in the material world. A silly hair dye gone wrong rocked my superficial world and sent me into a plummeting malaise.

And now I'm going to let my self worth skyrocket because I'll look edgy and someone wants me to smile for a camera.

Ah, the irony of Maya.