Fear of flying – not
I once convinced a tree service owner to belt me into a harness and haul me up some 80 feet into the air – just so I might see what it was like.
It is something I had always wanted to experience.
Floating among the leaves and dangling high above the roof of my little house, other than a bit of stress to the feminine regions (due to the construction of the belting)…
I loved it.
Fear of adventure – not
I once moved overseas with a single suitcase and a three-month window of time with which to construct a life from nothing… if I could.
I did.
I once wandered the streets of Moscow (as a teen), encountered unusual people in the process, politely declined offers to sell my American jeans, and wound up in the public baths. There, I practiced my rusty Russian by singing drinking songs in a birch-scented steam room with boisterous, naked middle-aged women.
Fantastic.
Anything for a laugh – almost
I once colored my hair hot pink using a can of spray, a move that elicited an amusing Happy Hour response and only the mildest regret on my part when caught in the rain afterward resulting in colorful streaks streaming down my cheeks and onto my clothes.
A decade and a half later as Halloween was approaching, I striped my dark locks with bright orange, this time courtesy of a professional to get the look just right.
My little boys adored it and so did I – until I realized the effects were achieved with permanent dye and my tiger-tinted mane would require months to grow out.
Erotic encounters – safely
I once lived out an erotic fantasy quite spontaneously and with a remarkable man involving un lieu inattendu et la lingerie érotique. Quel délice…
Yes, there were hot stilettos involved, and yes, you will have to break out your French dictionaries for the specifics.
It was a common enough fantasy, yet it was the audacity that was intoxicating, confidence building, and utterly delicious. While I haven’t lived that fantasy since, I never regretted experiencing it. After all, what is life without a little risk and a little daring?
Il faut oser – le rêve, et le fantasme.
Academic aspirations
I once marched into the Admissions Office of one of the most prestigious universities in the country, insouciante. Having applied to their graduate program (and not a shoe-in, mind you), I announced that I was looking forward to their acceptance, which they should send to my parents’ home as I was moving to Paris to take a job with the UN.
I quit my (then) current (dull) job, flew to Paris, rented a tiny room, and presented myself at a specific UN agency every few days until I finally talked my way in, making good on precisely what I’d told the head of Admissions.
I returned to begin graduate school some months later, convinced my (uncharacteristic) bravado sealed the deal.
I once dared the riskiest of all
I once dared to believe in marriage, dared to believe that I would be loved through thick and thin, dared to let someone into my heart though not all the way; from the start, I sensed it wasn’t safe.
Two irrepressible, exhausting, surprising, remarkable boys were born of that union, and the fact that I dared to believe, dared to give, dared to try, dared to love – I view as success.
Why I wouldn’t shave my head
I wouldn’t shave my head on a dare, or if you asked me nicely, or even for a tidy packet of green. (Though name a price in the six figures and I’ll reconsider.)
I wouldn’t shave my head because I catch cold easily, I do not possess a perfectly symmetrical face, I have no hats to keep me warm, and while I don’t mind my hair pinked, striped, or sculpted into a variety of styles, having beautiful hair makes me feel pretty. And I still love that feeling, love being a woman, love owning my femininity, love delighting in my share of unabashed érotisme à deux – precious pleasures that I can only hope will again, someday, settle in for an extended visit.
Beauty where it counts
Theoretically, I could feel beautiful with a shaved head – I know women who do – brave and enduring women who exemplify beauty that radiates from a glance or a smile or a gesture, from the bounty of a compassionate, generous, tender, charismatic nature, women endowed with the proverbial “beauty from within” that graces all whose lives they touch.
But for now, returning to my paucity of headgear and flawed facial features, I confess: I have no milliner on staff nor an acquisition fund to purchase a selection of veiled, plumed, sequined, and otherwise elegant and outrageous hats.
As for other accessories, in particular shoes – except for a lack of my very own exquisite pair of Helmut 100mm Christian Louboutins (pointure 36), as you can imagine, I already have an ample supply.
You are a far braver woman than I! (A fact that does not surprise me to have confirmed in this post.)
My acts of bravery are all relative and generally take me by surprise – as though only after making a decision do I realize it might have been a risky one. Safety, security, known quantities. These are my touchstones.
You are a brave woman. I have dared many things and keep dreaming. I believe I feel art piece coming based on “Il faut oser – le rêve, et le fantasme.”
Whose art piece? Yours, mine, or ours? And in what language? 🙂
I would shave my head in a second. Then again, it’s easier for a guy to pull off. Dying my hair on the other hand, probably not going to happen. You are an adventurous woman! Best for 2010!
I was just waiting to see what guy would take that bait… No pink hair in the Big Apple? Yeah, I think I get that. Though Miss M might enjoy it. As for the shaved head look on men, it can be quite attractive!
I suspect you are just as brave now — our courageous acts of daring are less flamboyant, as we get older, possibly, but just as meaningful.
Keep it up! And thank you reminding me that my marriage, that GIANT leap, is still a success even as it turns into a co-parenting partnership. It’s the first words I’ve seen that I can relate to in regard to the end of my marriage.
Dare, dare, Dare!
BloginSong has a mohawk–now THAT is a brave move! And jeez, BLW, you are making me feel like a total coward! You are one brazen chick.
I cut ALMOST all my hair off, in the hopes that I would look like Charlize Theron. Alas, I just looked like a very angry lesbian. Not that I don’t love lesbians, because I do. I just looked like an ugly, angry one.
And my hubs is TEN times sexier with his shaved head!!!
You crack me up!
Ah, BLW – most likely my piece as I will work on it here. We could collaborate via digital art. And, definitely in French!
It’s funny, CBG and I recently talked about head-shaving. I said that if someone close to me had cancer, say, like a child, or my lover, and lost their hair due to chemo, that I would shave my head in a show of love and solidarity.
But since CBG is bald by choice? Well, it woudn’t count then. heh.
Ha! Yeah, doesn’t count. But I’m totally with you on the solidarity situation. (I would still require plumage, ribbons, exotic brims, scarves, and other entertaining (and warm) headwear.)
this line of yours ‘I would be loved through thick and thin’
i really thought that too 🙁
lovely post, thanks
OMG, woman! You frighten me! But then…almost everything frightens me…or used to. Not so much anymore, but I can say this more of my regrets are due to fear of not attempting than attempting and failing.
Awesome post!
I’ve streaked my hair and straightened professionally in high school (that probably didn’t help the thinning of herd very much) I’ve shaved it bald in Junior High. And now, I will just watch it leave me gracefully. (Working on which bald to go for… Sean Connery, Patrick Stewart… or Jason Statham)
But, the adventurous one you are. That’s for sure.
Lots of brave stuff here! The love is the riskiest of all, isn’t it?
I would not go so far as to dye my hair unnatural colors and I completely agree I would never shave it. Not a good look at all.
I want to hear more about the sexy time in the linen closet, and in ENGLISH!
Colonel Mustard with a candle in the (linen) closet??
I had a huge crush on a girl in High School who had shaved her head. My friends thought I was nuts (they also thought she was nuts), but I’m convinced that, on the right woman (Natalie Portman is one 🙂 a shaved head looks great. More often than not I’m attracted to women with shorter hair, but I can’t explain why.
You’re talking about being daring. When I was a kid I would never do daring things. I was extremely vanilla, and I blended in perfectly to my surroundings. In college I started to be more daring. Like you, I went to a foreign country on a whim, Mexico. I got engaged to a Mexican girl within 3 weeks of being in the country and got married while still in Mexico much to my parents’ dismay.
I really wish I was more audacious. I think there are lots of times it pays off for people. Unfortunately though most of us come equipped with a low tolerance for failure. I’m one of those people, and that prevents me from taking big risks.
No one likes failure, and I do think as we get older we take fewer risks. But Elizabeth said it well – we may be daring in ways that are less flamboyant as we get older, but sometimes taking small (calculated) risks can payoff. It’s a different sort of daring, yielding benefits to confidence and expanded perspectives.
When I moved to other countries, I spoke the language. So if I had nothing else, I had that. Thus, daring – yes – but not reckless. The tree thing – I informed myself of what would happen, knew these guys, talked to them, calculated the risk. Pretty safe stuff; not reckless. Except they left me hanging up there for awhile and all pretended to head off for a beer! (I laughed. After they brought me back down to the ground… )
Hmmm, sounds like someone was all done in after the linen closet escapade!
I’m still trying to figure out where the linen closet comment originated. Natalie – you need a better French dictionary! No linen closet…
Shaving my head and eating raccoon which I will and have done (you can look at my pics on myspace of me before and after I shaved). For you, maintaining your hair is part of your femininty as you have already stated. For me, turning down something like cornea transplants is one way of letting people know that if something is not broke, don’t fix it and that’s down to the bone, not anything on the mere surface. Now, I can go on and on with what people’s mere reasons are for me turning that down, but I won’t
Awesome! You’ve got some balls otherwise.
BLW – I have been up the tree, in the harness, with a chain saw in my hands. It is definitely something to try if you are daring.
Thrilling isn’t it?
Sharing your acts of bravery in this world is courageous in and of itself! Dying your hair orange?!? Fantastic! And, talking your way into a profession and a school? Wonderful!
I will admit – I had the grades and references to back up my application, and I sensed I needed something to put me over the edge, because I knew I didn’t have the subject area background that most did for that university. But we all live acts of bravery. Marriage and parenting are perhaps two of the greatest acts of bravery around.
Many of you know me and know the huge risks that I have taken recently in my life. I am different than most judging from these responses. I hardly took any risk in my younger stages of my life. Now I am risking it all. Someday, I still have hopes that it will pay off.
And yes, Love is the riskiest of all risks. I see more and more how difficult it is to let someone in. That vulnerability is terrifyingly intimate in itself. A closed door is much safer – no one gets in, no one gets out.
I am terribly unadventurous. I am a bit scared of many things – flying, skiing, subways, etc. You get the picture. I have often wished that I were more adventurous. But, alas, it’s not who I am. I recently had coffee with a friend and told her this. I sat there, my hands gripping my very prudent skim latte, and bemoaned the fact that I do not have an adventurous spirit. And she looked at me and said, “Oh, but you do. You left a safe path. You are daring to do what you love.” I smiled when she said this. Of course. And maybe she is right? Maybe there are different breeds of bravery?
Lovely post as always.
I so agree. Taking a risk isn’t about hang gliding when you turn 40. It is about daring something unknown, and braving what may come.
Okay. not the linen closet…..but you had some kind of sexy time, and I want to hear the juicy details.
Tenacious woman! If I tell, will you illustrate with your cool squiggle drawings? Hmm. Maybe not. Unless you can do… shoes. 🙂
How funny. I just drew some heel-type shoes on today’s blog.
How fun would it be if you wrote the searing sexy stuff and I illustrated with my awkward drawings? Joint cross-blogging venture?
Oooooo. Now there’s a thought. We may have to conference on this concupiscent collaboration.
I’m in.
Hmm, interesting. Pondered this post for half a day (I’m here as a direct result of the WE 101 Women Bloggers list). I wondered, is an action brave, if one is not even aware of the possibility of a bad outcome? Wouldn’t that equate stupidity or ignorance with bravery? So, in order to be brave, one might have considered how to act, and, however briefly, taken stock of the consequences; and then gone ahead and done it anyway. Then, are we valuing wisdom – the knowledge of outcomes that informed the choice of action; or risk-taking – acting, and hoping for the best outcome; or selflessness – acting, with the expectation of a bad outcome? The segue from this in my untrained philosopher’s mind, was to consider that many of us would do a combination of any or all of the above, if it seemed important enough to us, or if the risks seemed small enough, or the bad outcomes, not-so-very bad. Reading your post, then, I think you place a high value on gaining knowledge from direct experience – many things were important to try, so then you would know/be able to take part. And how much fun did you had in the doing, is evident from your stories. I flew with you in the tree lopper’s harness (although I love to garden, so I forgot the view and the flying, and started pruning the trees), gasped with the epidemiologists at your risque, shrugged with the punks at your hair colour, was amazed by your passion and self belief as you travelled, worked and studied, and nodded with understanding as the wife and mother emerged. What I didn’t get, was the head-shaving. And of course, this was your design. The only action in the list with a probability of 1 that it would be reversed completely in next to no time (unless you used the epilator-to-end-all-epilators, or had your head lasered – pouff!), and you won’t do it. I like it. Tell me more!
Love your response! I was aware of the possibility of a bad outcome with the tree episode, though assessed the probability as exceptionally low. I have a slight fear of heights – slight – though I always wanted to go up in the trees. That took a great deal of persuasion (to convince the owner of the tree service to assist in allowing me to experience it), and a very slight bit of bravery on my part. Indeed – most of the actions I listed here I do not consider acts of bravery for me, per se, though they may be unusual acts (of fun or exploration) for others. The one which involved the greatest risk, truly, is perhaps the most conventional (marriage) and ironically, has had the most devastating outcome. But then, my sons are the product of that union, and they’re glorious. Wonderful response, delighted you found me, and so glad you stopped by. Please do, again.
What a pleasure to come across your blog. Clear, concise writing with wit and honesty!
And your bravery – calculated risk taking – is inspiring. Really good post. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you Susan. Welcome to this little hotbed of everything but the kitchen sink, and the occasional bit of controversy. Everyone has their version of daily crazy, right? (Enjoyed finding your blog as well, by the way!)
Interesting all the things you’ve done and won’t shave your head. I’d shave my head before I had the guts to leave for the UN. Good for you!
Well, Rebecca – Natalie Portman looks great in that “do” – and I was fine up a tree or overseas… Perhaps some of the things we brave have to do with an inherent sense of where we’ll shine, and the real courage comes when we push ourselves in directions we never anticipate.
I don’t recommend shaving your head, but I have done it. I was 35, and I had just started chemo. The chemo was going to take my hair, so I preemptively had it shaved. I was told that my head was lovely, that beauty was internal, that my spirit glowed, and other well intentioned platitudes, but it was a gut wrenching experience.
And now it is on a list of things that I’ve done that I’m proud of. Yes, I can travel with just a single bag through Europe for weeks, by myself; yes, I can camp in wilderness with style; yes, I can speak to a group of thousands. Shaving my head was harder. (Harder, somehow, than losing my breasts. Illogical, but there it is. My hair has grown back, and I’ve got fake boobs to fill in where the real ones were.)
And if I do ever have to shave my head again, I will remember that I am a kick-ass woman who isn’t defined by her hair, and that I have internal strength to do whatever needs doing. This is a beautiful thing to know, and I am grateful for that knowledge.
Thank you for sharing this, Kristina.
De l’audace, toujours de l’audace, le danger d’être surpris et l’interdit transgressé, un parfum de folie et un souvenir irréel dont la simple évocation fera monter la chaleur aux joues pendant des jours. Délicieux, n’est-ce pas ? Ma chère, avec cet esprit, ne vous étonnez d’être aussi irrésistible aux yeux des hommes français qu’ils le sont aux vôtres. Bien sûr, maintenant, tout homme qui aura lu ça voudra vous pousser à vous raser la tête, afin d’utiliser votre refus pour vous pousser à d’autres concessions bien plus délicieuses. Vous tentez le diable jeune fille. 🙂
(Petit message léger pour vous amuser pendant que je lis l’article “Bien dans sa peau” que vous m’avez conseillé.)
L’audace ? Je suis “pour” – cela fait parti du plaisir. Tenter le diable ? Quand-même pas. Tous les “lecteurs” dans ce petit coin du web sont très bien élevés.
Jeune fille ? You made my day, Sir.
There is a jeune fille in all women, madam. 🙂
Since we were talking of cultural differences, what does “tenter le diable” evoke on your side of the sea? I hope it’s not too audacious, far from me the idea of exceeding the limits of good taste. I must admit, your sentence about “lecteurs très bien élevés” (which can mean I’m not, having unknowingly said something distasteful) has me worried now.
I hope nothing I said offended you, and humbly apologize if I did, such was not my intention.
No offense whatsoever, I assure you! (I include you in the “bien élevés” group ; à mon tour de m’excuser ; j’ai l’habitude de profiter de l’occasion si rare d’être un peu coquine en français… et à l’écrit, d’ailleurs !)
Your comment was delightful, and thoroughly appreciated.
Me voilà rassuré. L’écrit a ceci de périlleux qu’en l’absence de langage corporel et de regard dans lequel se perdre, il est difficile de savoir jusqu’où l’on peut aller trop loin (rester dans les limites sans pousser l’audace n’ayant, vous en conviendrez, aucun intérêt).
Je crois d’ailleurs honnête de vous informer que je n’ai rien de bien élevé, mais je vous promets de compenser ce manque en me montrant parfaitement impertinent et outrageusement charmant, en bon Français. 🙂
Hélas, ce badinage est délicieux mais il me faut l’interrompre, l’heure se faisant avancée ici et ayant des engagements à remplir. J’ai lu l’article que vous m’avez conseillé et le commenterai demain à tête reposée, ne souhaitant pas me précipiter sur un sujet à la fois sérieux et qui je sens vous intéresse. Je vous souhaite donc, madame, une bonne fin de journée, une agréable soirée et une douce nuit, et vous promets de revenir demain vous faire part de mes pensées sur le sujet.
Bonsoir. 🙂