In which the phrase "getting a big head" is not a euphemism...
In the Mighty Boosh radio show, there is a part of the first episode wherein Vince Noir is attacked by a bat and, as a consequence, ends up having his head and face swell to grotesque proportions--his comedic punishment for his vanity.
Well. It turns out that something remarkably similar can happen if you should develop a sudden allergy to your usual hair dye. As I discovered, the hard way, this past weekend.
It turns out that it's less funny, and a lot more unsettling, when it happens in real life.
I should preface this by saying that I am really, really okay, and I am nearly back to normal now, and moreover, I know that I'm ridiculously lucky not to have had a more severe reaction. It turns out that these things can sometimes be horrible and lingering and occasionally, for the very unlucky few who have anaphylactic reactions, fatal. My reaction, dramatic as it looked, happened gradually, a day after the original exposure to the dye, and I was able to go to the doctor and get steroids, so that it was treated promptly.
I never felt anything physically worse than itching and soreness and discomfort from the extreme swelling, and for a day or two, my vision was physically impeded. But my head and face DID swell. A lot. Really, really a lot, to the point where it actually altered the appearance of my face quite dramatically. My forehead bulged. My nose broadened and even became less pointy. My cheekbones and jaw line disappeared into a new and bizarrely round face shape. My chin and neck went soft and bulgy. My eyes suddenly looked strangely small and narrow, and even the shape of them was altered. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I honestly saw a face that looked like a stranger's. It was one of the most disconcerting things I've experienced. You know your own face and features so well; to have them suddenly erased and altered is a mind-fuck (pardon the term) of the first order. As completely ridiculous as it sounds (and probably is), I actually felt a few paranoid moments over the weekend where I started to wonder if I genuinely remembered what I looked like normally, or if I couldn't even tell the difference any more.
The thing of it was, what was bothering me wasn't the idea of being "ugly." I didn't really look like a hideous and deformed creature, despite any jokes I might have made to that effect. I just... didn't look like myself at all. And I discovered that not looking like myself had an impact on my behavior and reactions, too, as if not being so certain of looking like myself meant that I wasn't certain how to act like myself, either. Part of me wanted to stay in and hide until it all went away (not very like me!), but thankfully, I pushed through that. I also, fortunately, have the sort of people in my life who can poke me when I'm being silly, and they dragged me out to my favorite pancake place for breakfast, which went a long way towards restoring my personal equilibrium. (I even found myself dancing and playing air guitar, later on in the meal, because the music was particularly good.)
Still, my instincts were all muddled for a few days. I normally make eye contact and then offer a big smile and nod when I come across other people. It's an ingrained instinct; I don't even think about doing it, usually. But this weekend, I found myself wanting to keep my head down, to hide behind my hair, to be quieter and shyer and much more inhibited than I usually am. I wasn't even sure of how to dress. It seemed silly to me even then, and it seems even sillier now, and yet I could not for the life of me operate with all of my usual I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me confidence and it's-all-going-to-be-fine optimism. Like Vince, I had nothing but my own vanity, really, to blame for the entire mess, but all the same, it hit me square in the self-confidence.
It wasn't for nothing, though, since this did give me the opportunity to reflect on said vanity, and also on how I structure my sense of confidence and self-worth. It's always good to check yourself and examine the bits of identity-building that aren't as solidly built or logically supported as they should be--not to mention getting some perspective on what really matters, and what we think should matter. And I also found a surprising amount of inspiration from the whole experience--one immediate Booshy plot bunny to be written, and the rest of it to be stored up in that special corner of the brain that writers and creative types all have, where we collect up the snippets of feeling and insight and impressions and details and concepts, to be pieced together in different combinations and magically made into something new and whole one day. I think it might one day prove useful.
In any case, it's thankfully over now. My neck's still a bit soft-looking, but everything else is where and how it ought to be, and I'm back to my sunny old self, more interested in standing out in a crowd than in blending into it. It was a bad ending to a not-brilliant and oddly unlucky week, in which I also burned myself twice in the kitchen (after having never once done it previously!), ruined a cake that I know how to make in my sleep, and had a sort of half-crying, half-hysterical stress-induced breakdown/freakout at said cake failure, while I was hosting my family for a St. Patrick's dinner. (There are few things that I hate more than the feeling that I've disappointed people or not given them my best.)
But this week will be better; I know this. It's sunny, and there were daffodils and new shoots in the garden on Sunday, and I am going to see Kasabian live next Sunday (!!!), and there are story ideas percolating, and good things are happening for people I love, and I have coffee and cats and good music and books and my hair is bouncy--and oh YES, I have wonderful, wonderful, beautiful friends (near and far) who buoyed me up this weekend when I was feeling fragile and insecure and down. So life is really quite beautiful after all, and I am very grateful to all of you for reminding me of that. Thank you, all of you, and please consider yourselves hugged and smooched and cuddled within an inch of your sanity. Wherever would I be without you? &hearts
I will return with pic spam tomorrow, time permitting. I do mean to get back in the habit of regular blogging on LJ. Certain other projects don't always leave me with the intellectual or emotional space to compose an entry here, but I think it's worth the effort. And most certainly, it is always worth the people here. :-)
Terrific Tuesday to you all! ~blows glittery kisses~
Well. It turns out that something remarkably similar can happen if you should develop a sudden allergy to your usual hair dye. As I discovered, the hard way, this past weekend.
It turns out that it's less funny, and a lot more unsettling, when it happens in real life.
I should preface this by saying that I am really, really okay, and I am nearly back to normal now, and moreover, I know that I'm ridiculously lucky not to have had a more severe reaction. It turns out that these things can sometimes be horrible and lingering and occasionally, for the very unlucky few who have anaphylactic reactions, fatal. My reaction, dramatic as it looked, happened gradually, a day after the original exposure to the dye, and I was able to go to the doctor and get steroids, so that it was treated promptly.
I never felt anything physically worse than itching and soreness and discomfort from the extreme swelling, and for a day or two, my vision was physically impeded. But my head and face DID swell. A lot. Really, really a lot, to the point where it actually altered the appearance of my face quite dramatically. My forehead bulged. My nose broadened and even became less pointy. My cheekbones and jaw line disappeared into a new and bizarrely round face shape. My chin and neck went soft and bulgy. My eyes suddenly looked strangely small and narrow, and even the shape of them was altered. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I honestly saw a face that looked like a stranger's. It was one of the most disconcerting things I've experienced. You know your own face and features so well; to have them suddenly erased and altered is a mind-fuck (pardon the term) of the first order. As completely ridiculous as it sounds (and probably is), I actually felt a few paranoid moments over the weekend where I started to wonder if I genuinely remembered what I looked like normally, or if I couldn't even tell the difference any more.
The thing of it was, what was bothering me wasn't the idea of being "ugly." I didn't really look like a hideous and deformed creature, despite any jokes I might have made to that effect. I just... didn't look like myself at all. And I discovered that not looking like myself had an impact on my behavior and reactions, too, as if not being so certain of looking like myself meant that I wasn't certain how to act like myself, either. Part of me wanted to stay in and hide until it all went away (not very like me!), but thankfully, I pushed through that. I also, fortunately, have the sort of people in my life who can poke me when I'm being silly, and they dragged me out to my favorite pancake place for breakfast, which went a long way towards restoring my personal equilibrium. (I even found myself dancing and playing air guitar, later on in the meal, because the music was particularly good.)
Still, my instincts were all muddled for a few days. I normally make eye contact and then offer a big smile and nod when I come across other people. It's an ingrained instinct; I don't even think about doing it, usually. But this weekend, I found myself wanting to keep my head down, to hide behind my hair, to be quieter and shyer and much more inhibited than I usually am. I wasn't even sure of how to dress. It seemed silly to me even then, and it seems even sillier now, and yet I could not for the life of me operate with all of my usual I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-me confidence and it's-all-going-to-be-fine optimism. Like Vince, I had nothing but my own vanity, really, to blame for the entire mess, but all the same, it hit me square in the self-confidence.
It wasn't for nothing, though, since this did give me the opportunity to reflect on said vanity, and also on how I structure my sense of confidence and self-worth. It's always good to check yourself and examine the bits of identity-building that aren't as solidly built or logically supported as they should be--not to mention getting some perspective on what really matters, and what we think should matter. And I also found a surprising amount of inspiration from the whole experience--one immediate Booshy plot bunny to be written, and the rest of it to be stored up in that special corner of the brain that writers and creative types all have, where we collect up the snippets of feeling and insight and impressions and details and concepts, to be pieced together in different combinations and magically made into something new and whole one day. I think it might one day prove useful.
In any case, it's thankfully over now. My neck's still a bit soft-looking, but everything else is where and how it ought to be, and I'm back to my sunny old self, more interested in standing out in a crowd than in blending into it. It was a bad ending to a not-brilliant and oddly unlucky week, in which I also burned myself twice in the kitchen (after having never once done it previously!), ruined a cake that I know how to make in my sleep, and had a sort of half-crying, half-hysterical stress-induced breakdown/freakout at said cake failure, while I was hosting my family for a St. Patrick's dinner. (There are few things that I hate more than the feeling that I've disappointed people or not given them my best.)
But this week will be better; I know this. It's sunny, and there were daffodils and new shoots in the garden on Sunday, and I am going to see Kasabian live next Sunday (!!!), and there are story ideas percolating, and good things are happening for people I love, and I have coffee and cats and good music and books and my hair is bouncy--and oh YES, I have wonderful, wonderful, beautiful friends (near and far) who buoyed me up this weekend when I was feeling fragile and insecure and down. So life is really quite beautiful after all, and I am very grateful to all of you for reminding me of that. Thank you, all of you, and please consider yourselves hugged and smooched and cuddled within an inch of your sanity. Wherever would I be without you? &hearts
I will return with pic spam tomorrow, time permitting. I do mean to get back in the habit of regular blogging on LJ. Certain other projects don't always leave me with the intellectual or emotional space to compose an entry here, but I think it's worth the effort. And most certainly, it is always worth the people here. :-)
Terrific Tuesday to you all! ~blows glittery kisses~