At the age of 23 I finally felt the first strong blow given right in my face by Corporate America. Having been spoiled by my previous work environment I never really had to think about what was "appropriate" or "inappropriate" when it came to my style and appearance. The small, closely knit, family style corporation which I had belonged to for the past year really gave me a lot of freedom for expression. I was free to rock rainbow colored hair and wear crop tops as I pleased without one person giving me the stink eye. (Though I'm sure some individuals had complaints or disagreements in terms of my "fashion sense", no one gave me trouble nor an ultimatum to make me feel superior or guilty for being me.) Fast forward to today, 15 some ish months later, I'm faced with "we don't want anything to come in the way of your success". Not only that and "you shouldn't have to prove yourself to them and work backwards because of your hair color." "Some people are old fashioned here and it's a big corporate, a lot of unspoken judgements are passed but the choice is yours." Just like that. Boom. What choice did I have left?
My hair feels like shit. It is so damaged from all the bleaching and other things I did to it for the oh so pretty fantasy colors that defined my signature trait. But it was all worth it. The damage, the trouble, everything was worth it when I saw my pretty little pony hair in the mirror. Now? Looking back at me is a head of dark, stringy, disgusting matter that no longer took shape or form to be called hair.
This is growing up right? The pressure of survival outweighs all personal interests when your career path does not involve key passions of your life. And this, my friends, marks the beginning of true adulthood for me.
If I were one day to be blessed with children of my own, I'd give then the courage to chase after their passion. Even if it's something hard to pursue, as long as you don't stop trying, there's always a way for happiness. I hate to have this feeling that my interests and happiness will forever be limited to personal times, but reality truly speaks for itself and for life, for survival, I have to find strength for it.
So long my beloved pastel locks. The past three years have been filled with magic and smiles with you by my side. We shall meet again...