I recently read a commentary to Adele’s new video Set Fire to the Rain and was struck by something. If you haven’t seen the video – it is a very accurate depiction of the abuse cycle with its ups and downs. I was surprised/pleased/horrified that it included the sexual dynamic in that mix.  But, that is something I need to post about some other time.

What I was struck by in the commentary was the notion that abuse can start with something as simple as telling you that you would look better going out in a shapeless muumuu rather than a stunning cocktail dress. It made me think of a memory that was recently accidentally triggered by my husband.

He made some off-hand mention about shaving my head in my sleep. He was kidding and of course meant no harm, but something I hadn’t thought of in quite awhile popped into my head.

My ex-husband made an effort to make me ugly and unattractive. Ok, yes, I know – this sounds like an odd statement and can only be immediately met with the idea that no one can “make” someone ugly and unattractive against their will. Right? Well, not quite.

At first, it started with little things like, “I love the way a woman looks first thing in the morning with no make-up.” That actually is not a bad thing to say. But, the next step was, “You look better without make up.” And, “Maybe you should ask one of your friends how to put on that eye liner. I think you’re doing it wrong.” Then finally, “You look like a whore with all that crap on your face.”  It was all little steps in a direction, each getting incrementally worse, so it didn’t seem *that* bad.  So, of course, I stopped wearing make up.

Then, there was the shaving – legs and… beyond. I wasn’t allowed to shave or trim. He wouldn’t allow food in the house for days, and then show up with bags and bags of candy bars, which was the only thing I could eat. Because, remember, I was locked in the house. It fucked up my metabolism royally and, ya, it didn’t help that I was pregnant, but I felt like he was a bizarre feeder (for those of you in the know on what that term means). I had a theory that he was slowly fattening me up in order to eat me.

He refused to allow me to buy maternity clothes, leaving me to squeeze into much smaller clothes, go naked or wear his massively oversized G-Unit shirts. I found myself spending much of my time, wrapped in a sheet toga-style through the last couple months of that pregnancy.

But, in the midst of all of this, came my hair. I love my hair. I keep it short, but had grown it out while being pregnant. But, once while extremely drunk, my ex told me about an ex-girlfriend he had long before me. He had physically forced her to shave her head because she had been too attractive to other men. It was the most honest thing he had ever said to me.

It was shortly after he told me this, that he began berating my hair. It was too long, too short, too blonde, too… everything. My solution – I ordered a couple wigs online just to stop the complaining. Then came the threats that he would shave my head. He would joke about it at first, but then, the more he would drink – the more real his statements became.  One night, he dragged me into the bathroom and tried his damnedest to get me to hold still enough for him to start cutting. He got a couple chunks, but it was easy enough to hide in a pig tails. And my right thumb has a nice slice on the top from it, but it healed up ok with just a little scar.

I was already trapped, never out with people, so why was there this motivation to further tear me apart? I’ve never understood this. And, why wouldn’t you want the person your with to look their best? It just didn’t and still doesn’t make any sense to me at all.

*shakes head and sighs*

I really just don’t get it and I was there and lived through it. I have nothing to add and no insight. I don’t even try to make excuses anymore. It doesn’t even feel real. And, it doesn’t feel like any of it happened to me.