Well, actually, several more times than just ‘once,’ but for the sake of argument, this once is important.
On 30 November, 2012, I wrote:
So guess who chopped her hair off the other day?
That’s right, Alice did.
And I needed moral support to do it.
I’ve never gone this short before, but I’m loving it.
And as soon as I have the correct postage, I’m donating what I cut, which is about 18” I think, to Locks of Love.
I had been think about cutting it for a while, but when I decided to do “Random Acts for Misha,” I thought now would be the best time.
I haven’t really been posting about my random acts because I work all day and it’s difficult for me to really be able to do anything for anyone other than exploit loopholes at the shop and get them better deals.
So here’s my “big” random act. I’ve donated my hair before I love the feeling I get when I know I’m able to do something for someone I will never meet. And if I could do it again soon, I would, but it’ll take me a while to grow out the length they need for donations. 🙂
And I began my adventure into having continually short hair. I’ve been cutting it regularly since and I love how easy it is to maintain versus having it down to my waist.
But wait! There’s more:
That made me so happy. And so I wrote about it:
I’m reasonably certain that last Ask was my first Anon.
I’m also reasonably certain that it’s the only thing that’s actually, truly made me cry on this website.
There are things that remind me of things that make me cry, but I literally burst into tears when I read that message. And I start crying when I reread it.
I… am not confident in myself. I may pretend I am, that I’m not afraid to stand up for myself, to be myself, that I’m able to let the crap I deal with every day just roll off my shoulder, but that’s all an act. The only time I can really be strong in front of other people is when I’m pretending that I’m acting out the role of “Alice.”
I don’t often look in the mirror and like what I see. I often see a plain-Jane who was consistently out-shined by her three gorgeous cousins and her incredibly talented friends. I see a shy introvert who has only gotten down to her goal weight because she’s too broke to indulge her sweet tooth. I see a girl who has been single for over two years, but has no secret hope that the gentleman she has a crush on will ever even notice she exists and is far too shy to even really talk to him.
And when I went from waist-length hair to 1920s-inspired bob, it took a huge leap of faith in myself that I could go out into the world and not hide behind my hair or use my fancy-pants hairdos to distract people from how awkward and damaged I feel I am. I’ve been receiving compliments from friends, family, coworkers that it looks cute on me, or it suits me better (that was my favorite because it came from someone I don’t know very well, but I respect her very much), but they’re people I see all the time or at least have some concern for my feelings/nearly-nonexistent-ego.
So when I came home from work, after an exhausting shift during which I had to deal with people who were demanding, rude, and generally horrible to me when I’m doing my absolute best to help them and not run, screaming, into the stock room just to be away from people, and I saw that little 1 above the envelope at the top of my screen, I smiled. Because, hey, someone wanted to talk to me, or maybe it was one of those people whose posts I’ve reblogged wondering if they really would send me an Ask with a story or a song or a character inspired by my blog or whatever.
But then I read it and I realized that someone out there, this Code Name: M, this person that I probably don’t know and most likely is not Misha, wanted to tell me that they thought I was beautiful for donating my hair, the only part about me that I’ve ever been pleased with, to Locks of Love as part of Random Acts for Misha.
To whoever sent it, it was probably just a little thing, just something that only took them a couple of minutes to do, something that, in the long run, won’t have much of an impact, if any, on their life.
But to me it means the world.
Because I don’t think I’m beautiful; I’ve never thought that. On a good day, I might feel a little pretty. But never beautiful.
And for someone out in the world, hiding behind that little grey face, to tell me that they think I’m beautiful… I can’t even begin to explain how touched I am that they would do that for me
So, thank you so much for doing this for me, for making me feel beautiful. My heart is so full of love and appreciation for you, Code Name: M.
I wish you every happiness. Please keep doing what you’re doing and make the world a little brighter.
All these were coming from my Tumblr, if it wasn’t clear. I love Tumblr.
I’ve been thinking all day about how I was going to respond to you this time, Code Name: M, but for the first time that I can recall, I simply can’t find the words.
I want to be able to tell you how much your messages mean to me. I want to be able to put into words the emotions I feel when I read them.
But I can’t. Not really.
You have said the sweetest things I’ve ever had directed my way. You’ve helped boost my confidence a bit. You’ve certainly made my days brighter.
And all I can really do is thank you for that. Because I don’t know your name, and I don’t know your face.
But if we ever do meet, let me know. Just smile at me and tell me that you’re my favorite Anon, Code Name: M.
Because I’m saving the biggest hug I can manage just for you.
And that was my adventure with Anonymous Code Name: M. To this day, I have no idea who they were or why they wanted to imply they were Misha Collins. I’m reasonably certain it wasn’t Misha, but I hear he’s known to do weird things, so maybe. I’m keeping to the firm belief that it was some very nice, kindhearted soul spreading Misha’s awesome.