I don't really consider myself a girly girl. I am not a tom-boy but I am not the giggly, dress in pink type of lady either. And I am sorry to admit, that I have never admired the girly girls, much. I think it is a shame how much we make people be all one thing and none of the other. There is so much that makes up a person, a woman.
I am thinking about the sort of woman I want to be and one aspect of that is one who is being able to make myself feel delicate. When you take care of yourself sometimes it is hard to remember to take care of yourself, you know? And in some point of my life, I came to the false conclusion that to be strong meant that you had to not be feminine.
How wrong I was. So now, I am working on a new understanding.
For me, there are small things that contribute to feeling like a lady and I enjoy them. Today it was my new soap which made luxurious lather and smells sweet and wonderful. It was called Buttercream Cupcake. (Is there a more divine name for soap?) How could I not feel soft, feminine and pretty with such a soap?
So smelly soaps, pretty earrings, sparkling nail polish, all of that reminds me that I am more than capable; I am also a girl.
And girls rule.
love
me
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Dear Hair
Seriously.
I don't even have enough words to express how I feel about you. I have written about it before but really, I don't like you. I, in fact, HATE you.
For months now, maybe years, I have wanted to cut you all off and just start again; a hair do over. Then, for some reason inexplicable to me, last Thursday, I got up my courage and I shaved it all off. I went to this little salon down the street from my apartment and for $11 (including tip), I freed myself from my battle with you.
I think the biggest reason I did it is because I no longer want to be bound by fear. I don't want to be all talk and not live because I am afraid, even of a hair cut.
So I called this shop that advertises haircuts for $7.99. They told me on the phone that they weren't very good at cutting African-American hair, but I didn't flinch. I wanted it to be all over.
I might mention here, that I used to absolutely love going to get my hair done. I loved having someone else wash my hair. I loved being able to feel my scalp again after a relaxer or how shiny it looked after it had been straightened. It made me feel different when I walked out of the door; prettier, brighter, better.
Then, after a particularly poor decision to put blonde highlights in my hair, I went to get it fixed. And there were two wonderful women working on my hair. And they were getting excited as my deranged blonde streaks were replaced with a uniform color. Health and prettiness returned. I couldn't see yet how it looked but because they were so excited, I also got more excited.
They finished and turned the chair to the mirror. I looked at myself for just an instant and quickly looked away. I understood at that point that I wasn't any different when my hair was done. And my love affair with salons ended. I now viewed appointments as necessary to keep my from looking homeless, but not the transforming, special-treatment it was before. The spell had been broken.
Getting my hair done was now a mission. And at this time, that view served me well.
At first, I was determined; walking from my home to the salon. The stylist started with scissors and I felt calm. Until she took out the clippers. I felt a wave of panic and almost asked her to stop, but I had committed myself: no more fear. And then it was all gone.
I came home and fell apart. I CUT YOU ALL OFF! Besides the vanity aspects: Is my head an attractive shape? What can I possibly do with it now? Does this mean I wear big earrings to emphasize that I am a girl? Does this mean I wear smaller earrings to not play into the fact that my hair is as short as a boy's? Do I look too masculine? Too much like a cancer patient? Too much like I am just one more work week away from doing myself in? I was overcome by doubt. Useless doubt really, because there was no going back at that point. It wasn't like I could go back to the shop and ask for my hair and commence Operation Follicle Reattachment.
Then I realized, as I was doing breathing exercises to calm down, that what I was really scared about was how exposed I now was. In my warped way of protecting myself, I have always kept parts of how I really feel hidden. And sometimes, I could hide behind you, too, hair. You could speak for me even if it wasn't the true message of my heart. But with you all gone, I felt like who I was would be out there. Because I have always wanted to be free of you. Free of old school beliefs that long hair is the only way to be pretty. Free of the work and time and pressure to style and have you look nice. Free of all the costs associated with taking care of you.
I recognized that this change of fear on my insides would show up on the outside. Everyone would see. And everyone would comment. I couldn't act like it didn't happen or was nothing because for me, it was something.
To my surprise, people were complimentary of the haircut. And I was surprised by how many women told me they wanted to do the same.I suppose that speaks to the idea that the closer you become to your true self, the happier you are and that reaches other people.
I hadn't meant for the cut to be an emotional statement really. It was more of a challenge to myself to feel the fear but do it anyway. I had grown as a person but I didn't necessarily feel pretty. I didn't feel ugly but I didn't walk out of the salon feeling more feminine or attractive; just more like myself.
I felt freer the next morning when I washed my hair. IN THE MORNING. And then went out in public. It was wonderful. A dollop of shampoo and the fresh spring breeze on my head. It was exactly what I had wanted.
I am learning slowly, what is beautiful to me. Redefining the sort of woman I want to be. I am glad for the learning even though the process is not easy.
So here is me with the cut:
* My hand is there is such a way as to showcase my latest absurd ring.
Thank you, hair, for the teaching.
me
I don't even have enough words to express how I feel about you. I have written about it before but really, I don't like you. I, in fact, HATE you.
For months now, maybe years, I have wanted to cut you all off and just start again; a hair do over. Then, for some reason inexplicable to me, last Thursday, I got up my courage and I shaved it all off. I went to this little salon down the street from my apartment and for $11 (including tip), I freed myself from my battle with you.
I think the biggest reason I did it is because I no longer want to be bound by fear. I don't want to be all talk and not live because I am afraid, even of a hair cut.
So I called this shop that advertises haircuts for $7.99. They told me on the phone that they weren't very good at cutting African-American hair, but I didn't flinch. I wanted it to be all over.
I might mention here, that I used to absolutely love going to get my hair done. I loved having someone else wash my hair. I loved being able to feel my scalp again after a relaxer or how shiny it looked after it had been straightened. It made me feel different when I walked out of the door; prettier, brighter, better.
Then, after a particularly poor decision to put blonde highlights in my hair, I went to get it fixed. And there were two wonderful women working on my hair. And they were getting excited as my deranged blonde streaks were replaced with a uniform color. Health and prettiness returned. I couldn't see yet how it looked but because they were so excited, I also got more excited.
They finished and turned the chair to the mirror. I looked at myself for just an instant and quickly looked away. I understood at that point that I wasn't any different when my hair was done. And my love affair with salons ended. I now viewed appointments as necessary to keep my from looking homeless, but not the transforming, special-treatment it was before. The spell had been broken.
Getting my hair done was now a mission. And at this time, that view served me well.
At first, I was determined; walking from my home to the salon. The stylist started with scissors and I felt calm. Until she took out the clippers. I felt a wave of panic and almost asked her to stop, but I had committed myself: no more fear. And then it was all gone.
I came home and fell apart. I CUT YOU ALL OFF! Besides the vanity aspects: Is my head an attractive shape? What can I possibly do with it now? Does this mean I wear big earrings to emphasize that I am a girl? Does this mean I wear smaller earrings to not play into the fact that my hair is as short as a boy's? Do I look too masculine? Too much like a cancer patient? Too much like I am just one more work week away from doing myself in? I was overcome by doubt. Useless doubt really, because there was no going back at that point. It wasn't like I could go back to the shop and ask for my hair and commence Operation Follicle Reattachment.
Then I realized, as I was doing breathing exercises to calm down, that what I was really scared about was how exposed I now was. In my warped way of protecting myself, I have always kept parts of how I really feel hidden. And sometimes, I could hide behind you, too, hair. You could speak for me even if it wasn't the true message of my heart. But with you all gone, I felt like who I was would be out there. Because I have always wanted to be free of you. Free of old school beliefs that long hair is the only way to be pretty. Free of the work and time and pressure to style and have you look nice. Free of all the costs associated with taking care of you.
I recognized that this change of fear on my insides would show up on the outside. Everyone would see. And everyone would comment. I couldn't act like it didn't happen or was nothing because for me, it was something.
To my surprise, people were complimentary of the haircut. And I was surprised by how many women told me they wanted to do the same.I suppose that speaks to the idea that the closer you become to your true self, the happier you are and that reaches other people.
I hadn't meant for the cut to be an emotional statement really. It was more of a challenge to myself to feel the fear but do it anyway. I had grown as a person but I didn't necessarily feel pretty. I didn't feel ugly but I didn't walk out of the salon feeling more feminine or attractive; just more like myself.
I felt freer the next morning when I washed my hair. IN THE MORNING. And then went out in public. It was wonderful. A dollop of shampoo and the fresh spring breeze on my head. It was exactly what I had wanted.
I am learning slowly, what is beautiful to me. Redefining the sort of woman I want to be. I am glad for the learning even though the process is not easy.
So here is me with the cut:
* My hand is there is such a way as to showcase my latest absurd ring.
Thank you, hair, for the teaching.
me
Monday, April 19, 2010
Dear Middle of April
I am at the halfway point of the the struggle that is you. I am still trying to do the one new thing a day, though it hasn't been going as well as I thought. I got sick so that lowered my drive to try new things. There have been the food things:
first batch of homemade muffins
black bean quesadilla
baguettes cooked in olive oil, spread with brie cheese
more personal growth things:
better self control at a work meeting
calling out the crazies on their manipulation
better awareness of my feelings and needs
and the most crazy thing:
I cut off all my hair (more about that in a different blog)
What I have learned in the last two weeks of new things is how afraid I am and how much I think about what other people think of me. I am not pleased with either discovery. I really really no longer want to live my life concerned if others will like me or not; or really, love me or not. Because it all does come down to what I feel makes me unlovable.
I have this feeling of a brick sitting on my chest. I feel like I am just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I never feel completely relaxed and I don't like that at all. I miss feeling calm.
I can respect myself if I am unappreciated or if no one really understands, but I can't respect myself if I stayed afraid and didn't try. I am trying with the new things, but I still feel stuck. I want to move on. I want to move away.
I want to figure out what I am supposed to be doing. I want the season to change.
me
first batch of homemade muffins
black bean quesadilla
baguettes cooked in olive oil, spread with brie cheese
more personal growth things:
better self control at a work meeting
calling out the crazies on their manipulation
better awareness of my feelings and needs
and the most crazy thing:
I cut off all my hair (more about that in a different blog)
What I have learned in the last two weeks of new things is how afraid I am and how much I think about what other people think of me. I am not pleased with either discovery. I really really no longer want to live my life concerned if others will like me or not; or really, love me or not. Because it all does come down to what I feel makes me unlovable.
I have this feeling of a brick sitting on my chest. I feel like I am just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I never feel completely relaxed and I don't like that at all. I miss feeling calm.
I can respect myself if I am unappreciated or if no one really understands, but I can't respect myself if I stayed afraid and didn't try. I am trying with the new things, but I still feel stuck. I want to move on. I want to move away.
I want to figure out what I am supposed to be doing. I want the season to change.
me
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Dear First Week of New Things
You proved to be more of a challenge than I had realized. I'd thought that within the ebb and flow of life, I would easily happen upon new things but there were three days this week when I really had to scramble to find something new.
Before I recap the week, let me state that it might seem that the obvious thing to do would be to make a list then of new things and do one each day but I don't feel comfortable with this. I want something to feel a little spontaneous and I want to feel waves of courage when presented with an opportunity and for whatever reason making a list of new things to do feels strict and then I will feel obligated and the adventure, joy and confidence I am hoping for will be replaced by drudgery and resentment. That having been said, I am not opposed to suggestions; just the hard enforcement of new things. I make lists all the time; I don't let myself live. You, as new things, are a careful attempt.
Here is the summary of new things for me this past week:
Monday
I made my first gin and tonic. I did not follow a recipe as I was pretty sure it required the two ingredients in it's name. I have had gin and tonics before, but I have never made one for myself. In the ones others have made for me, there is usually lime. So my gin and tonic were the two staples and a splash of sweetened lime juice. I will say that it was perfectly refreshing and I indulged myself in a few of them the rest of the week. It was great.
I will add here that I don't want all of my new things to revolve around food, but I suspect many will include them. I never really cooked much before and I am allergic to life. But as I have been really working to lose weight and find other food options, I am enjoying cooking. I think it is helping my sanity. I know it is helping my budget. But I will work to make sure all of the new stuff isn't just about meals. Which brings us to the rest of the week:
Tuesday
I did an at-home sleep study.
Here's the thing. In my early twenties I had years where I barely slept. As you might imagine, I do not look back on that time with any fondness. It was terrible. Terrible. It has improved recently except for this fatigue I have which is unlike what I felt when I didn't sleep for years. This is cruel irony and led me to consider that perhaps I had sleep issues. And so the study.
The result? I do not have sleep apnea, but apparently I do snore. Not having a sleep partner, as it was tactfully asked of me, I never knew this about myself. It wasn't really pleasant news, but at least I am not bothering anyone with the snoring for now. I am curious as to how long I have snored. I can't believe that no one in my life has never commented on it. I mean, I did go to some sleepovers and have shared a hotel room with others.
Also, did you know that apnea just means a pause in breathing? I have decided to use this word for more than it's sleep condition because it is kind of fun to say and the idea of it cracks me up.
Bonus new thing: I wore navy blue nylons. Which I don't think I have ever worn. They were fun but got a run in them two seconds after I put them on.
Wednesday
This was a desperate search for a new thing. I was at work all day with monotony so no chances for different came. The longer the day went, the more nervous I was getting. I couldn't even think of a new food endeavor. After work, I did have some errands to run, one being that I needed to return some mascara to the Walgreens. There I was afforded my opportunity.
I was waiting at the return counter and there was NO ONE around. Meaning, a tumbleweed could have rolled through and the only one to see it would have been me. Usually in those situations, I patiently wait. Then impatiently wait. I look around hoping someone will see me. I look towards cashiers in other parts of the store hoping they will help me. I wait and wait. Eventually a manager is summoned and I complete my return. This time, I didn't wait for eternity. I apnea-ed. Then went to a cashier who wasn't busy and politely said I had a return and could she page a manager for me.
And she did.
And my return was quickly completed. I was out of there in a few minutes; home in time to watch Modern Family.
Thursday
Thursday also found me scrambling for something I hadn't done before, but I was saved by the public library because I'd put a book on hold and it came in. And the freakish Wisconsin weather had produced a beautiful day. So I took my book and went into the courtyard outside my apartment and read for ten minutes. I put a time limit on it because doing this took a lot for me. I was nervous and uncomfortable so I promised myself only 10 minutes.
The time flew. I felt much better. It wasn't as scary as I'd thought. I don't know why it made me sooooooooo uncomfortable.
I am crazy.
Friday
I don't really want to get into the details. Long story short I had a doctor's appointment. I knew it was going to be really hard, so I'd written a letter to my doctor in an attempt to stand up for myself. I did not read the letter, but I did say parts of what was in the letter to him. He was kind, sort of, but ended with two statements that are still really bothering me. One implying that my current ebola outbreak was weight-related which it isn't. It just isn't. The other being a very stupid thing to say to a grown up.
And here is part of the thing. I look sad even when I am not sad. And weak and fragile when I am not that inside. I have big, sad, depressive eyes. They are inherited from my father. He had the same sad eyes. That is just how they look.
Exhibit A: Today, a complete stranger came over to me, introduced herself and gave me a hug. She did this, she said: "Because I just looked like I need a hug." But frankly, I did not. It wasn't the cheeriest of days, but it was by far not my saddest. I probably had squinty allergen/ blind as a bat eye. Sometimes I think other people see in my eyes, how they are actually feeling, and then just respond to that. And there are me and my eyes minding our own business being hugged by strangers.
Part two of this situation is that I appear to be incapable of retaliation. My sister has said that I look like I have delicate limbs. Since I don't see that when I look at them, I don't really know what that means. Everyone else must though, because people feel they can say and do whatever to me and there will be no consequence. What with the sad eyes and the pansy limbs, I'd be lucky to lift a hanky to my face let alone let you have it for your thoughtlessness.
I believe this is what my doctor saw. And when he said all of my tests were normal but that I just needed to lose weight, I will admit, my eyes were sad for reals. He said:
"Are you disappointed in me as your doctor?"
And I did what I always do. Which is ensure that the other person doesn't feel bad for letting me down.
"I'm not disappointed in you. But to hear that it's weight is very, very disappointing."
That last part is not something I do. I don't tell people how I feel about stuff. And I rarely stand up for myself. I did better here but not great. I pled my case up to a point and then gave up when I saw that he wasn't going for it. The lesson form this day's new thing was not to have given up. I should have fought harder.
The last thing he said to me was to save my disappointment for my diary. That statement, coupled with my frustration over no diagnosis, sent me to my car in tears. It was condescending. And frankly his question about me being disappointed in him sucked. Because he wanted me to make him feel better instead of him trying to help me. People who do this, who "apologize"this way, are cowards. Because if you really wanted to know how I felt, you would have asked that. I am not proud of myself for letting him off the hook. Friday's new didn't make me feel good at all.
Saturday
One good thing about this day is I did what I thought was best for me. I went to the assembly but a different one purely based on what I needed and what I thought would help me. Since Friday's emotional breakdown, I wanted something to help me feel better, not worse, so that is what I chose to do. This was also not standard behavior. Nor was it my best new thing either. I think there were a few ways I could have improved it, but overall, at least I tried.
So there was the week. The good, the bad and the heartbreak. I like the challenge of this and that it gives me something to focus on accomplishing each day. I don't like that I am judging it, but I am working on that. I do like that for at least a minute or two, it is doing something that I hadn't imagined when I began last Sunday.
It's giving me back a little piece of myself whilst simultaneously helping me grow. This was an added new thing and I am grateful.
Me
Before I recap the week, let me state that it might seem that the obvious thing to do would be to make a list then of new things and do one each day but I don't feel comfortable with this. I want something to feel a little spontaneous and I want to feel waves of courage when presented with an opportunity and for whatever reason making a list of new things to do feels strict and then I will feel obligated and the adventure, joy and confidence I am hoping for will be replaced by drudgery and resentment. That having been said, I am not opposed to suggestions; just the hard enforcement of new things. I make lists all the time; I don't let myself live. You, as new things, are a careful attempt.
Here is the summary of new things for me this past week:
Monday
I made my first gin and tonic. I did not follow a recipe as I was pretty sure it required the two ingredients in it's name. I have had gin and tonics before, but I have never made one for myself. In the ones others have made for me, there is usually lime. So my gin and tonic were the two staples and a splash of sweetened lime juice. I will say that it was perfectly refreshing and I indulged myself in a few of them the rest of the week. It was great.
I will add here that I don't want all of my new things to revolve around food, but I suspect many will include them. I never really cooked much before and I am allergic to life. But as I have been really working to lose weight and find other food options, I am enjoying cooking. I think it is helping my sanity. I know it is helping my budget. But I will work to make sure all of the new stuff isn't just about meals. Which brings us to the rest of the week:
Tuesday
I did an at-home sleep study.
Here's the thing. In my early twenties I had years where I barely slept. As you might imagine, I do not look back on that time with any fondness. It was terrible. Terrible. It has improved recently except for this fatigue I have which is unlike what I felt when I didn't sleep for years. This is cruel irony and led me to consider that perhaps I had sleep issues. And so the study.
The result? I do not have sleep apnea, but apparently I do snore. Not having a sleep partner, as it was tactfully asked of me, I never knew this about myself. It wasn't really pleasant news, but at least I am not bothering anyone with the snoring for now. I am curious as to how long I have snored. I can't believe that no one in my life has never commented on it. I mean, I did go to some sleepovers and have shared a hotel room with others.
Also, did you know that apnea just means a pause in breathing? I have decided to use this word for more than it's sleep condition because it is kind of fun to say and the idea of it cracks me up.
Bonus new thing: I wore navy blue nylons. Which I don't think I have ever worn. They were fun but got a run in them two seconds after I put them on.
Wednesday
This was a desperate search for a new thing. I was at work all day with monotony so no chances for different came. The longer the day went, the more nervous I was getting. I couldn't even think of a new food endeavor. After work, I did have some errands to run, one being that I needed to return some mascara to the Walgreens. There I was afforded my opportunity.
I was waiting at the return counter and there was NO ONE around. Meaning, a tumbleweed could have rolled through and the only one to see it would have been me. Usually in those situations, I patiently wait. Then impatiently wait. I look around hoping someone will see me. I look towards cashiers in other parts of the store hoping they will help me. I wait and wait. Eventually a manager is summoned and I complete my return. This time, I didn't wait for eternity. I apnea-ed. Then went to a cashier who wasn't busy and politely said I had a return and could she page a manager for me.
And she did.
And my return was quickly completed. I was out of there in a few minutes; home in time to watch Modern Family.
Thursday
Thursday also found me scrambling for something I hadn't done before, but I was saved by the public library because I'd put a book on hold and it came in. And the freakish Wisconsin weather had produced a beautiful day. So I took my book and went into the courtyard outside my apartment and read for ten minutes. I put a time limit on it because doing this took a lot for me. I was nervous and uncomfortable so I promised myself only 10 minutes.
The time flew. I felt much better. It wasn't as scary as I'd thought. I don't know why it made me sooooooooo uncomfortable.
I am crazy.
Friday
I don't really want to get into the details. Long story short I had a doctor's appointment. I knew it was going to be really hard, so I'd written a letter to my doctor in an attempt to stand up for myself. I did not read the letter, but I did say parts of what was in the letter to him. He was kind, sort of, but ended with two statements that are still really bothering me. One implying that my current ebola outbreak was weight-related which it isn't. It just isn't. The other being a very stupid thing to say to a grown up.
And here is part of the thing. I look sad even when I am not sad. And weak and fragile when I am not that inside. I have big, sad, depressive eyes. They are inherited from my father. He had the same sad eyes. That is just how they look.
Exhibit A: Today, a complete stranger came over to me, introduced herself and gave me a hug. She did this, she said: "Because I just looked like I need a hug." But frankly, I did not. It wasn't the cheeriest of days, but it was by far not my saddest. I probably had squinty allergen/ blind as a bat eye. Sometimes I think other people see in my eyes, how they are actually feeling, and then just respond to that. And there are me and my eyes minding our own business being hugged by strangers.
Part two of this situation is that I appear to be incapable of retaliation. My sister has said that I look like I have delicate limbs. Since I don't see that when I look at them, I don't really know what that means. Everyone else must though, because people feel they can say and do whatever to me and there will be no consequence. What with the sad eyes and the pansy limbs, I'd be lucky to lift a hanky to my face let alone let you have it for your thoughtlessness.
I believe this is what my doctor saw. And when he said all of my tests were normal but that I just needed to lose weight, I will admit, my eyes were sad for reals. He said:
"Are you disappointed in me as your doctor?"
And I did what I always do. Which is ensure that the other person doesn't feel bad for letting me down.
"I'm not disappointed in you. But to hear that it's weight is very, very disappointing."
That last part is not something I do. I don't tell people how I feel about stuff. And I rarely stand up for myself. I did better here but not great. I pled my case up to a point and then gave up when I saw that he wasn't going for it. The lesson form this day's new thing was not to have given up. I should have fought harder.
The last thing he said to me was to save my disappointment for my diary. That statement, coupled with my frustration over no diagnosis, sent me to my car in tears. It was condescending. And frankly his question about me being disappointed in him sucked. Because he wanted me to make him feel better instead of him trying to help me. People who do this, who "apologize"this way, are cowards. Because if you really wanted to know how I felt, you would have asked that. I am not proud of myself for letting him off the hook. Friday's new didn't make me feel good at all.
Saturday
One good thing about this day is I did what I thought was best for me. I went to the assembly but a different one purely based on what I needed and what I thought would help me. Since Friday's emotional breakdown, I wanted something to help me feel better, not worse, so that is what I chose to do. This was also not standard behavior. Nor was it my best new thing either. I think there were a few ways I could have improved it, but overall, at least I tried.
So there was the week. The good, the bad and the heartbreak. I like the challenge of this and that it gives me something to focus on accomplishing each day. I don't like that I am judging it, but I am working on that. I do like that for at least a minute or two, it is doing something that I hadn't imagined when I began last Sunday.
It's giving me back a little piece of myself whilst simultaneously helping me grow. This was an added new thing and I am grateful.
Me
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