Super breezy weekend (since Friday night). It's like signal #3 without the rain. The coldness of the air stings. The wind howls and whistles. My brother's galvanized sheets in the yard moved from their original position and almost damaged some of my new plants. Thankfully, they stopped an inch away, or they would have beheaded one of my Blue Pines, lol!
Anyway, there was a knock on Dad's door at 10 am, while I was tidying up the sink and the cooking area. To my surprise, it was my high school batchmate. She was looking for her godchildren, my niece and her spouse (who had gone to the city last month). As expected, chit-chats ensued, and she shared that she was worried about them because they had not been attending church for a while. A very thoughtful godmother, I say.
"She just had a baby, so that might be one reason," I explained, thanking her for her concern for my niblings. Then she changed the topic to my short, short hair. "Are you sick?" She couldn't hold it, pointing at my head. She may have thought I had an illness or something.
"Oh no, I'm great, thankfully! It's just a habit of mine to cut my hair this short around these months as it feels lighter," I assured her. "Are you sure?" She wasn't convinced, maybe because she was aware of Mom's illness before. I giggled in amusement. She reminded me of my sister, who, out of shock, said I looked like someone who had cancer when I first had my head shaved four years ago.
I thought it was a typical reaction because on our side of the country, not many women do it, so it's quite understandable. Some even gasp when they first see me with my almost bald head.
But yeah, whether others are shocked or wondering why doesn't concern me at all. I rarely get affected. It dawned on me that as I mature, my own peace and happiness are far more important than people's opinions of me or how I look.