Full-length mirrors tended to have that effect.
Since she was at home by herself, and with nothing better to do, she did one of the things that she often did before venturing out for the day: scrutinizing what she was going to wear. Ironically, in some twist of fate, the artist was actually debating what she wouldn’t wear: the case in point being her headscarf.
Dressed in off-black jeans and a dog shirt & a blue sweater, Asiya stood in front of the mirror with no scarf on. Her dark brown hair was long, falling down past her butt, and had a natural wave to it toward the bottom. Most of them couldn’t tell due to the hijab she wore most of the time, but Asiya always made it a point to take very good care of her hair. It was one of the things she actually liked about herself and was proud of. And now she was debating one of her biggest personal struggles; whether or not to step outside without a scarf.
The conservative part of the artist, the part of her that was still in the mindset of being a part of her parents’ home, told her to keep to wearing her scarf. Modesty was important, but more than that -- the hijab on her head told the world she held to a particular set her beliefs. It was what showed she was a Muslim. But was that such a big deal? Was it really that important?
The other part of Asiya, the part of her that always wanted to do her own thing, regardless of what others thought, was telling her to just forget it. Going outside without it on for one day wasn’t going to hurt anything. She wouldn’t be hurting anyone or acting out. She simply just...wanted to go out with her hair down. It was a test, she rationalized. A way to test the waters, to see if it was something she’d want to do more frequently in the future. Tons of people went out without a scarf on their heads, so why couldn’t she?
What was so bad about it?
Nothing -- that’s what.
Ever since she had moved out of her parent’s home, she had toyed around with the idea of going out without it. Yet she had never actually gave it much thought, until that day. And so, the artist studied her figure up and down, and squinted when she caught sight of her hair. ...Yes. This was it. She was going to do it, and there was going to be no one who could tell her otherwise.
“I’m going to do it, Guava,” she said out loud to her bird. While the conure probably didn’t care one way or the other, Asiya was saying this more to get herself amped up. Saying it out loud gave it more meaning -- it made it more real. Plus, she needed the reassurance. “I’m going to go out and head to Avant Garde without it. Or maybe I’ll call Erin?” She then paused, leaning in closer to the mirror to get a better look.
Uggh. Split ends.
“Or a hair stylist. I need a haircut, definitely. And maybe I’ll swing by the piercing shop. Oooo -- that could be fun. I’ve been meaning to check out the possibility of a septum piercing...”
Chattering on with herself, Asiya slipped out of her apartment with her purse and keys in hand. As she thought about all the possible places she could go, the one thing that she had been worrying about had now completely slipped her mind.
She was officially out of the house without her scarf and things didn’t feel any different.
[Word Count: 630]
