Comfortable In My Own Skin

Surely, many of you watched with an overwhelming feeling of "WOW" when, Britain gave us Susan Boyle, supposedly their second best talent who lost out only to a dance group. My emotions were pushing for expression in the form of water from my eyes, as I listened to this "plain Jane" single lady stand there when the sneers were televised from audience and judges.

She packed a wallop of a voice inside the simple exterior she showed to the world. In the beginning when she was introducing herself, forgetting words that would answer Simon's questions, no one could have known that one of the most mellow, angelic and beautiful voices ever to hit the London stage would come from her. It appeared, This church volunteer could not show them "Hollywood" know it alls, (my words) anything for they could spot talent just by looking at someone and she didn't have it.

Not so. The story is already told, but lately I have been thinking of Susan Boyle. I have even gone back to listen to her again and again and marvel at the combination of everyday woman and her flawless voice. A woman who - for all intents and purposes - is comfortable in her own skin. Had she not been, I surmise she may have gone to the beauty shop to have her eye brows thinned and trimmed, her hair cut and styled, and make up applied.

I wonder this - had she accepted herself as she was - flaws and all - and had no second thoughts the world would want anything more of her? She had confidence in what she had to offer, there was no need to change anything else as far as she was concerned.

Which brings me to my point. A question for me alone to answer. "Am I confident in my own skin?" At times I think not. Other times maybe, and still other times a flat no.

What makes the difference? My self esteem has often drug bottom, and the need for assurance and praise has been great. In fact there have been times, I needed someone else to make me feel worthwhile.

However, people fail us. And if they fail us often enough, there has to be a reservoir to draw from.

It happened to me many years ago, when I (with the help of the Lord of course) decided that I was not made of inferior material. I was not junk to be tossed around by well meaning people or thoughtless people for sure.

There was years of garbage that had been dumped in on my my esteem, and the garbage I had to dig through to actually see myself took a few weeks of digging. I hadn't known how bad I actually was, until the light at the end of the tunnel of garbage shown through even a little. I like what I saw of the real me, which gave me the courage to keep going.

It is a bigger story for sure, but none that needs to be re-told at this point. Here is why.

Last week I went to Senior discount day for a hair-do (hi light) and manicure. One of my daughters had gifted me with birthday money, so I opted to go to the Beauty school instead of my regular stylist. All my friends go there and have had wonderful success.

I somehow open my mouth, and insert foot without realizing the consequences before hand. My haircut was great, my nails were pretty. So what went wrong? My hair is the truest yellow I've ever seen. Can't even call it golden rod, it is yellow. My regular stylist has made it the same color also with the statement, "Well we don't want gray do we, that is why we color it?" I couldn't argue with her, and all in all it is very pretty when it settles down.

My senior student at the school did the same thing, only she brought too much through the cap to be "bleached" "colored" or whatever. So now I really do have yellow hair.

I could have thrown a fit, but that wouldn't have changed things.
I could have demanded my money back - I'd still have yellow hair.
I could have told her what a horrible stylist she was - but that would not have made friends or influenced people. In fact she was a good stylist - she just heard me say my regular stylist always made me yellow - and I figure she didn't hear the rest of what I said from that point on.

"I don't like it yellow - but her point was that I was trying to cover the gray, so why make gray even grayer?" I had said.

She didn't hear that part at all. So she is thinking, "I gotta do it like her regular stylist or it won't be right."

I'm thinking, "Oh surely she will hi light it in red or something."

To make a long story short, I figure the difference between a good hair-do and a bad one is about two weeks! So I am living with it without an ounce of worry about what people will say. I've decided they will not say it to my face unless it is one of my grandchildren.

Which they did, without pretence of not noticing. I had to laugh, for they were the only ones brave enough to say anything - I mean ANYTHING about my hair and its unique color.

While playing "I-Spy with my little eye" one came up with "something multi colored".
As I couldn't think of anything like that I asked for a dominant color. To which he replied "Brown". So I started guessing things with brown, and finally gave up. With a giggle then a laugh he said, "Grammy's hair!"

I laughed as hard as he did, for finally after almost a week someone was brave enough to say something and it didn't hurt my feelings, it only brought laughter. Maybe it was the way he said it, I don't know.

However today I thought of Susan Boyle. Not to compare myself to this gracious lady, but the thought was this "Maybe I am getting comfortable in my skin after all."

There are a lot of things about me I'd like to change, but it doesn't stop me from going out in public, enduring the stares for whatever reason. In the meantime, I'll continue to style my hair each day and watch as the golden rod yellow hues slowly fade. I'll also listen to Susan sing "I dream a dream" often as well.

In fact, she and I may have a kindred spirit.

Grammyof13