The Beauty Page is Under Construction
My hair has always been the bane of my existence. Thin, with lots of volume at the back, but thinning on top, and thank you, Daddy, for the Austrian hairline. Think Arnold Scwartzenegger. Or Dracula. Just because Elvis could rock it doesn't mean a girl should have to! Bangs are my friend. The texture is also problematic: a combination of wavy to piggie tail corkscrews; those girls share the neighbourhood with a pin straight, lifeless mess on top, which seems to have just given up trying. Unless it's humid. Or rains. Or mists. Or I perspire. That's berzerker time.
Throughout my entire life, I've had exactly one haircut that I truly loved. It was my second year of college, I'd survived a near-death illness, and a friend talked me into letting her have a go at a fresh look. She was a stylist and has since moved on into real estate. I miss her! JOOOOLIEEE!! I've never found a stylist who could repeat the easy to style, choppy little mid-length pixie. From shower, towel dry + a dab of wax and my day was set. The compliments from strangers at school who actually sought me out to say how much they liked it was surreal. Now, that's a confidence booster and it showed in my self-esteem.
Finances have been holding me off from getting a good cut and treatment for far too long. The funniest thing is one of Kitten's BFFs is a sylist. I just know she must look at me with pity and disdain while thinking, "Jeezus, I could improve that with my eyes closed. Why doesn't she ask for the help she desperately needs??" ⏳
A makeover is desperately needed to keep my motivation going. Constant deprivation of girly things, as they are luxuries, plays havoc on anxiety and morale. I'm trying to move into a new stage of my life. The problem is, I wholeheartedly believe in the "Dress for the Job You Want" theory. Over some really tough years of unrelenting stress and chronic pain, I've let myself go to the point that I look and feel like an old hag. I stopped wearing makeup before the pandemic. Throwing my hair in an unflaterring ponytail has been my go-to. My wardrobe is 98% from thrift stores. That's a decision I feel good about, but it's been a year since I could add any new-to-me pieces.
Reclaiming some of the things I've lost, due to plummeting from the upper middle class with a parachute that turned out to be razored and catapulted me into more than a decade of extreme grinding poverty, feels like it's time has come. Metime is all the time now, finally. Illnesses, responsiblities, and broken promises be damned. I've done good, am good, and I deserve good. My integrity is solid.
Kitten has been encouraging and instrumental in making it possible so I highlighted the two things I would love to receive for my birthday from my Amazon Wishlist and gave it to her. She also got specific instructions to hit up Belle and McSteamy to pitch in because I know they can afford twenty bucks to make mom happy. (The Roomba and Kindle aren't ever off the table, just sayin'...) If they do gift me, I'll be able to do my own nails, which is something I had since my early 20s and haven't been able to afford in twelve years. That would be super exciting!
Once the funky eye thing/possible Blepharitis is treated by a doctor and cleared completely, I'm also going to get her other BFF to do lash extensions. There may not be money for Botox to erase the elevens between my eyebrows from a lifetime of being a worrier, but I'm going to focus heavily on skin and haircare this fall. Hell, I may even try to wrangle eyebrow tats. You see, I have a plan, and I need to look and feel the part. Hopefully some of these nice changes that will make me feel feminine and strong again and that will fuel my determination. It would be nice if that was before the Ber months are gone. Meantime, cute hat!
In my Quest for Good Hair, I've saved a few articles and products that caught my fancee. As I find more, they'll be added to the Links ⏬