Recently I hit... not exactly a rough patch of life, but a strange one, and because I can't change the situation mentally, I decided to change what I could physically.
So I dyed my hair. Red foxtail, to be exact.
|(note - my hair's actually a lot longer than this.)|
But that's nothing I haven't done before. I've done red, blue, (including a strip that went all the way up my head), and purple (which I wasn't proud of 'cause it turned pink).
So I got a tattoo.
Don't worry, it's just henna. It'll wash away and within a month all evidence of my physical changes will be gone.
Just so you know, my 'strange' patch of life has nothing to do with my appearance. So, why do all my changes have to do with it? Well, that happens to be the only thing I can change right now. I would much rather move away from this hot, horridly humid place closer to my friends and family and find a job for my dad. But I can't. I'm just a fifteen-year-old girl with a bad hairdo and a tattoo.
But on the other, more important hand, I'm a fifteen-year-old girl with a bad hairdo and a tattoo and a connection to the King of all. I'm a fifteen-year-old girl who is loved by a God Who promised to do everything for my good, in spite of my bad hairdo and tattoo. He will take me safely over this 'strange' patch, whether or not I move, whether or not my dad gets a fantastic job, whether or not I decide to tattoo my whole body or shave my head.
(Which I never plan on doing, by the way. But who knows? 'Strange' things happen...)