Touch

I got my hair cut and colored today for the first time in about 6 months, maybe more. I just looked at myself for the first time since I left the salon. (I'm so blind that I can't really see more than blurs without my glasses, which were off most of the time I was in the salon.) Both the colorist and the stylist did a nice job with my hair, though it's a little darker and longer than I would prefer for summer. (They're both new to working with me. My regular colorist just left the salon for another job, and my regular stylist isn't coming back until Washington State is at Phase 4.)

But the thing that has stayed with me is what it felt like to be touched intimately by another person. I won't say how long it's been since that's happened, but it's been a really long time. Someone touching my head, which is a Thing for me, felt almost like a forbidden pleasure, like something that shouldn't happen in a public place. I enjoyed it almost too much. And now I can't stop thinking about it, because I don't know when I'm going to share that kind of touch with another person, ever. Touching one's own head isn't the same thing, because what you feel is how your hand feels touching your head. When someone else touches your head, your head feels it, rather than your hands, and it's a whole different sensation. I knew I was touch hungry, didn't realize I was that touch hungry. It's almost enough to weep.