Tag: hair

Swiping bubbles

My cousin pulled a can of beer out of the garage the other night.

It apparently tasted like metal, and nobody liked it… it had been out there for a very long time… and it might have come out of a dumpster just before it ended up in the garage…

Since nobody liked it, I offered to use it.

For what?

For my hair.

I told them how I sometimes use beer as conditioner – it is great for hair, plus it always smells great!

“So, you don’t drink beer, but you put it in your hair…”

Exactly. 😉

That was all yesterday.

Today, the beer was still on the counter, because I’d forgotten to use it last night in my shower.

The conversation somewhat repeats itself among the family who are gathered here today – and who happen to be all different from yesterday, except for my mom (and no, this is not our house).

In the middle of their doubt and unbelieving, my grandma confidently joins in, “Oh, yeah!… We used to sneak beers from my daddy’s, and use them… use them in our hair… oh, yeah,” she nods.

We all can’t help but to comment and ask her questions while she’s still talking, and she manages I answer our questions by the end of her two sentences.

Then my cousin says that, well, he, too, used to steal his daddy’s beers, but not for that, not for his hair…

We all laugh, processing the fact that Grandma user to steal beers… and that she poured them in her hair…

I mean, I‘m all about it, but I still think it’s a somewhat abnormal thing to do… too hipster for most these days, perhaps one could say…

‘I was stealing them for my hair, too… I was conditioning it from the inside… at the roots,’ my cousin adds.

Obviously, we love the nerdiness and the cleverness of the comment, and delight in our collective nerdiness.

Also, it felt nice to have my crazy idea actually sanctioned by someone considered not only sane but to be one in a place of authority within the whole family… that was great, and totally fun.

So, who knew that my grandma and I had ‘sneaking beers’ and ‘using beer in our hair’ in common?

Man, that’s cool.

Hairy

Does anyone else ever feel that men growing out their facial hair, just to show that they are men and not boys – I’m thinking of young teachers or coaches especially, but this applies to more men than just them – is stupid?

It supposedly makes them more manly.

It suddenly occurred to me, walking up to work this morning, that m the female equivalent would be women not shaving their legs and underarms, just to show that they are women and not girls.

By the male standard, then, my not shaving my legs and underarms would make me more womanly, as only a woman could grow such hair – girls just can’t do it the same, you see…

Therefore, I am more respectable, because I have hair on my legs and under my arms…

Or am I?

I certainly call bs on the whole affair, men’s facial hair included.

You are a man, when you are a man, and facial hair’s growing ability does not affect that.

Likewise, you are a woman, when you are a woman, and no hair growth affects that.

Hair is simply hair.

Being a man or woman is independent of such a minute factor, and I just wish people could get that, and stop doing the stupid ‘facial hair makes me look like a man’ thing…, because it typically emphasizes the individual’s youth, creating an opposite effect from that which was desired.

Just my thoughts early this morning, as the sun rose (which, too, is a funny idea).

Post-a-day 2019

Yearbooks

***Update on the ant bite: My bicep still rocks, but the bite swelled and split open this morning, only to close up, turn green in the middle again, and start swelling again… we’ll see how it looks in the morning, now! (And the coach’s bites did not turn green, he said, but one was hurting a lot.)***

We now return to regular programming.

There is a guy working with me who graduated high school with my youngest brother.

I pulled out the yearbook from their senior year today, and had a brief look through the senior photos.

I enjoyed how much hair this guy and my brother both had in their photos, and how they both have almost none now, and both keep their heads shaved (though my brother uses a razor, and the other guy only seems to buzz it as short as possible).

One thing I noted was that their service work locations seemed almost stereotypical for each of them…. interesting, perhaps.

Something bigger, however, was the other people I found in the yearbook.

I crossed names of people whose faces I knew not, but whose names I knew well from my brother – how fun to put faces to the names, even almost two decades after the fact.

And then I realized that I finally had the opportunity to look up and remember my brother’s best friend’s full name – I forgot his middle name a few years back, and haven’t recalled it since…. I just always thought it was fascinating, because he was the fourth with the name, so he had a “, IV” at the end of his legal name.

And I use the past tense here, because he died at the start of their sophomore year of college.

It was drinking and a bit of drugs at a party, and everyone thought he’d simply fallen asleep, but, of course, he hadn’t… I’ve always remembered most that my brother was invited to that same party, but chose to work on his absurd amount of homework, instead (thank you, UT Architecture program [not for the first time]).

And so J—– died at the party, and my brother spoke at the funeral, at the request of J—-‘s family, and he did a wonderful job.

My mom and I also attended the funeral, along with a lot of people.

After the funeral, since J—- had always said that he wanted to go out with pinwheels and fireworks, we (a handful of select people that happened to include my mom and me) went to an open land area across from a movie theatre, and set off a bunch of little rockets and a few big shebang fireworks (the pinwheels had decorated the casket) – it was a true party and celebration to send off J—- and to say goodbye together.

When I came across his name today, I was delighted – I finally have it(!).

And then I gave his photo a good look.

And it was almost terrifying as an experience, though terrifying just is not quite the right word…

It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time I’d seen a photo of J— since around the time of the funeral – I’d only had mental visions of him since then.

It was weird to think that, u like my brother and that other guy, J— had not aged from this photo… maybe two years’ worth of aging, but that was little different from the boy who sat in the frame that is in front of me now.

These were posed senior portraits for the yearbook, and so they each are looking directly at the camera…, directly at the viewer of the photograph… J—- was no exception…

And it was spooky, knowing that those eyes, so true and almost penetrating in this photo, were no longer here, no longer existed.

And then, it had me wonder how many people in this book, this yearbook are no longer around?

And that was perhaps even spookier…

I had to move on to other things then, both in terms of productivity and in terms of an emotional desire to step away from the increasing discomfort and potential sadness of what sat before me, visually and mentally, at that moment, and so I closed the book, put it back in its place, and walked away.

I soon had tears in my eyes, and the feeling of hollowness just behind the bottom of my ribs was growing.

Now, hours later and many tasks and conversations later, I feel less afraid, and more aware of the fleeting aspect of life, the circumstances that allow us a promise of a chance at everything, and at a chance of it all going away at any moment, in a moment’s time…

On my way up to the house where I am housesitting tonight, I passed their church, where J—-‘s funeral had been… I think of him every time I pass it (though that doesn’t happen too often), because it’s the only thing I’ve ever attended there…

……

I don’t have anything insightful about this… I just wanted to share…

Post-a-day 2019

Hair

I had my hair cut today.

Actually, I had a whole lot of my hairs cut today… and voluntarily.

I’m extremely pleased with the result, though it somewhat freaks me out a bit… as though the person I see in the mirror is someone else from the person I saw every time before this evening.

The whole goal to the haircut was to step closer still to the person I want and long to be… and every time I take those steps, then tend to be quite scary… the fear of failure – and various tangents off of it, too – always makes me feel a bit wobbly as I take these steps, though they usually gain solid ground and confidence rather quickly once I actually take them.

So, with the hair, I’m still a bit wobbly on my feet, so to speak, but I am finding the ground to be increasingly solid and stationary, the more I allow myself to experience the panic and discomfort, and, therefore, to let it go.

And no, this is not over just a little haircut, just so you know – this was my hair this morning:

and this was the floor* after the haircut:

*Including the 18-inch section that I set down for the photo; hair that I am donating for wigs for cancer patients (yet again)

And my hair is not very thick, mind you… that’s a pile of an additional four and a half inches that came off after I relaxed a bit about it all, and I was ready for the real haircut and style to happen. 😛

That’s 22 and a half inches of hair for the longest parts, with the bulk of it being around 20 and a half inches long…

Kind of crazy, huh?

Post-a-day 2019

… And so I did

Today, I accomplished money-earning work that helps others, I learned something, I trusted my instincts, I interacted with and chatted with smart, kind people, I did someone a big favor, I completed one of the assignments from school (the one I had most nearly despised), I ate quite decent food (and twice!) for myself, I talked with my cousin about useful things for the both of us, I patted and got licked by a dog, and I got licked and leaned against a bunch as I learned about and helped care for and rode horses (which included detangling a bunch of hair).

Then, while showering and running my fingers through my own hair to detangle it, I felt something strangely similar to the feeling of the horse’s hair – recall that my hair is dirty blonde and just about as opposite in texture from horse hair as is possible – and eventually discovered that the slightly knitted area felt similar due to the fact that it had hay in it. 😛

Totally chuckled at that, if only on the inside of me. 😉

I did many things today, and they all contributed to my day being beautiful for my life, and even extremely helpful for my struggle-filled mood of the past couple weeks… I don’t want to do lame work, but I can always find something interesting within it, once I get started on it.

And so, as I suspected, getting going was what I needed most to get on track with things – resisting, evading, and avoiding, as I already knew, were definitely not the beneficial path for me. 😛

So now, preparing for bed, I’m not even attempting to turn on a film or anything, despite the fact that I needn’t actually be up until around 1pm tomorrow, because I am exhausted in a good way and I feel good, and so I want to go ahead and read and sleep.

Super signs of a good day, a day well spent. ❤

Post-a-day 2019

Shaving, again

Sometimes, you decide that you want to shave your underarms, and then, a couple days later, you finally remember to bring a razor to the shower with you, and you carefully attach the blade to the handle, and then set the razor in the shower with your other just-placed shower supplies…

And then, once in the shower, addressing the business of cleaning and shaving, you go to rinse off the first sweep of hair, and find none on the razor, suddenly realizing, after a moment’s consideration, that your meticulous attaching of the razor head to the handle happened upside down…

And now you consider whether it isn’t too much of a hassle to turn it over and reattach it, and if you just would rather drop the razor for now, and give it a go some other day instead…

…

… Or maybe that just happens for me. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Rolling with the hair

Going through the process of brushing my teeth tonight, I suddenly recalled the time my best friend, Christine, did a buzz cut design on my hair, but used the wrong size of head on the clippers.

You see, to make a long story short, she and I both set up / participated in a fundraiser for St. Baldrick’s Foundation, a pediatric cancer foundation, in which we raised money by putting a reverse bounty on our heads – when the bounty was paid/raised, we shaved our heads, a step toward solidarity with children who have cancer, and a financial donation to their care and eventual cure.

As our hair was growing back, Christine got this really cool buzzing of the word Beloved on her head.

About a handful of weeks later, for the Fourth of July, I brought over our clippers so that Christine could do a headband design in my hair.

In preparation, we prepared and I signed a contract, freeing Christine of blame for whatever was to come…

“What am I getting myself into here?”

“A bad idea,” responds Christine, happily, brushing back the wetted hair, so she doesn’t shave the wrong stuff.

I reminded her consistently about getting the head correct on the clippers…., and she, in her certainty that it was the correct size, used the same size she had had used on her own hair… five or so weeks ago…

Seeing as how my hair was now about an inch longer than hers had been when she had the word buzzed into it, the very first cut proved that she had selected the very wrong size.

Since this first cut was right on top of my head – front and center – we agreed to roll with it… while laughing our guts out, of course.

For the day/evening, she finished up the striped design, trimmed down the longer section of the stripes a bit, and then painted the super short sections red, white, and blue.

So, my hair was totally themed for the night, and got new colors a day or so later.

For the next few weeks, I mostly wore a fabric headband at work, but otherwise let my hair down, so to speak, and let the design and painting shine through.

It definitely improved over time, and eventually did almost exactly what I’d wanted it to do in the first place…, but just weeks after the fact, and nowhere near as well.

Nonetheless, it was a wonderful experience of trusting, making mistakes, loving friends anyway, and embracing what’s so… even if it means a messed up and painted hair-do for a few weeks. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Shaving

Oh, what a thing, shaving…

You know, it usually takes me two to three days to shave my legs effectively.

The first day happens when I 1) have decided to shave and 2) have remembered actually to bring my razor to the shower with me.

You see, I keep all of my things out of the shower, so that everything stays clean… I was already looking for a solution better than having to keep the water really low, so that it wouldn’t splash and get anything else wet while I showered, when I read Marie Kondo’s fabulous recommendation of just removing everything after each shower…, and I accepted.

Therefore, I must remember to bring a razor with me to the shower before I am in the shower and washing my body, suddenly recalling that I had intended to shave three days ago already…

So, that’s the first day of actual shaving – if we counted all the days I forget to bring the razor, we could get into months of waiting around, so we’re going with the days on which I actually do the shaving.

Now, I typically shower before bed.

I also typically have lower lighting on in the evenings and at night, as a sort of preparation for bed, allowing my eyes and mind and body to calm down in the lower, softer lighting that would be terrible for daytime hours but that is perfect for bed preparation.

Therefore, when I finish shaving the first day (night, really), what looks like a job well done, I can usually expect not to be so.

And so, the following day, in daylight (or, at least, daylight lighting), I examine my legs – it originally was on accident, and still usually is, but I occasionally remember and check intentionally – and almost always find hairs here and there, and occasionally even a whole chunk or strip of missed hair.

Oops… oh, well… I’ll fix it tonight.

And so, remembering where the missed areas and spots were, and also doing a bit of a close-up look under the lights before I get into the even darker shower, I shave a second night.

That’s the second day.

Usually, at this point, I’ve gotten all the hairs off my legs.

However, there are the occasions where I have yet again missed a hair or fifty.

And so, on the third day, upon discovering the again-missed hairs, I typically go directly to a razor and dry – extremely carefully, of course! – shave those missing hairs in the good lighting.

Thus concludes my monthly or quarterly or, on extremely rare occasions, weekly leg shave.

If I ever have forgotten too many days in a row, and I have an event that night or the next morning, the whole thing happens in fast forward: jump straight back into the shower (if I’m even showering, and not just shaving my legs directly from the side of the tub), and then do the cautious dry shave for the final stragglers I notice while dressing.

So, in a sense, shaving is quite the event in my life. 😛

Therefore, if I shave for you, you can know that you are really important in some way. 😉

Post-a-day 2019

Freshly Sliced

I am the epitome of sliced white bread, as I enter campus.  I have on my dance top and shorts and my hipster tie-dye Oakley sunglasses.  I am eating a Trader Joe’s snack bar and holding a large bottle of cold Trader Joe’s electrolyte water, and am walking with a cool green backpack on my back, and my dirty blonde hair in a messy bun on top of my head.

Two black guys are walking towards me.  The larger of the two, a very large and very dark guy, asks me how I’m doing and what I do here.  I tell him that I go to school.  He asks if I do any sports or anything, because I look like I do long-distance running; I look very thin and fit.  I say that I did.  He says that ‘you see there, I was right – you look like it’.  I notice that I’m also wearing running shoes – the ones I used to wear for all my walking and bike riding at my Japan job – and that I haven’t just been doing exercise, despite my complete outfit for it.  He hands me a flyer while saying that they hope I can join them on the 20th, and then I continue onward.  Based on the flyer, it looks like some sort of DJ dance party with stereotypical black advertising and expected attendees.  Not that I’m opposed to the party, but I’m not exactly the target audience of the flyer, making it surprising that this guy would have stopped to invite me…I mean, did he see me?  Again, not opposed to it.  I’m in full support of it.  I’m just a little surprised by it.  However, I recall that this is a college campus, so they’re probably inviting just about any girl they can find (who doesn’t look like a total nerd, that is), and my surprise lessens significantly.

After a few hundred yards of walking onward, I see what I originally think is a dead snake on the ground.  As I approach it, I see that it is a strand of weave, of false hair.  A gurgling chuckle rises within me.  This is definitely not my typical territory, and I feel as though my thoughts of being stereotypical white bread have just been proven by my surroundings of very much black culture  – not to mention the fact that almost everyone I can see is black to some degree – showing up in stark contrast to me.

And then I remember that I also am wearing a drape-y scarf, despite the fact that it is still technically summertime.  I’m even more white bread than I had thought.

Post-a-day 2018

“You could tuck in the mullet part”

The things we say in our family member text messages – things which, at the time, seem normal enough to us – never cease to amaze me… and today’s was no excuse.

We were looking for a reasonable Elvis wig in the costume shop, for a Catholic Life Insurance party this weekend, you see, and one wig was really rather good, minus the few mullet hairs in the back.

Simple, and totally normal, right?

😛

Post-a-day 2018