I posted a selfie on my Instagram. It started off as a good day today so I was okay with sharing something personal. The other day, I posted a photo of cut hair, my hair, on the barber’s cloth that was draped over me. I was fascinated by the texture and random design that my wet, curly hair made as it fell on the cloth.
I posted about how cutting my hair was an act of simplification — how I was so uncomfortable on a daily basis and cutting my hair was an act to simplify and to decrease the discomfort. Because of my catheter, I have a bandage on my neck that can’t get wet. Because I’m afraid of getting it wet, I shower/bathe twice a week now, just on the day I’m going to do my dialysis.
Because they’re going to change my bandages anyway, if it gets wet, it won’t stay moist for long for it to attract bacteria and start an infection.
Today, being a good day, I felt it was okay to show what the finished product looked like. It was my first time, in a long time, to have a haircut by a barber. It was my first time to get a shave from a barber as well. My brother picked up their barber and brought him over to the house (I don’t leave the house unless I’m going to the hospital; so as to not expose myself to possible infections while I have my catheter) . He cut my hair, a lot shorter than I would have wanted, but I love what came out of it and he gave me a very tight, close shave.
I loved the shave, really. It was my first time to get a shave from a barber and I can’t imagine not having a barber shave me next time. It’s something I would save up for, for sure.
So I posted the selfie and I was surprised for when I started to write the caption, I went into a stream-of-consciousness monologue and I think I ended up writing a prose poem. Take a look and tell me if you think it’s a prose poem or not.
The caption of the photo:
this is what it means (for me) to simplify: to remove what is unnecessary, like a full head of hair, and to just let my body breathe; every pore now more permeable to the moments, the dark and the light penetrating the skin, relieved of surface tension.
simplify. the distance between two points — from sickness to health — is a straight line, a forward momentum, without impediments, like hair.