pixie cut--one month update

so, it's been a month since i cut my hair.

now the big question: do i grow it or trim it?

to nobody's surprise, i have decided to grow it out.  (come on...did you really think i'd be able to commit to one thing for any length of time?)

i did/do love my haircut.  and it is SO. MUCH. easier to style.  however, i like change.  and growing it out will allow me to experiment with a lot of different hairstyles along the way.  i also miss long(er) hair a little...i feel pretty boyish sometimes, even though i know i still look like a girl.

i might end up keeping it shortish.  right now i'm aiming for a medium-length bob...i can't wait until i can do tiny pigtails.  i really like my hair wavy and short, so i might keep the bob for a while if i like it.

anyway...here's what my hair looks like after a month!  (it hasn't really grown much, but i can tell it's fuller.)


here's what it looked like a month ago, a few days after it was cut:

ah, the days when i could just comb it and let it air dry.  she layered it a lot and thinned it out a TON when she cut it.  now it's starting to...fluff up.

and here's a poor-quality, floating-head picture...but it looks a bit longer here.  it gives me hope that maybe it is growing a bit.

[i was trying to figure out why this picture looked so weird to me...i think it's the "senior portrait smile" i've got going on.]

and from today...an attempted faux half up-half down!  (bobby pins used: only 4!)

and there you have it.  one month later.


[if you were bored to tears, i apologize...this post was more for my own documentation purposes.  i always wish i'd taken more pictures of my hair at different lengths so i could remember what it was like.  so now i'm trying to.]

playing grown up

i'm not much of a makeup person.

i really want to be.  i admire women who know how to transform their look--who can go from day to evening with a sweep of smoky shadow or bold lipstick.  there's a certain power in knowing how to flaunt your femininity.  i want that power.

my "evening look" is very similar to my "day look"...just a little more smudged.  what i thought was a "fresh face" in the morning light usually turns into the "i just rolled out of bed after sleeping in my makeup" look--my mascara has traveled down to create a dark ring under my eyes and my eyeliner, if i'm wearing any, has mysteriously disappeared.

i have a few tubes of lipstick that i picked up on a whim.  once or twice a year, i break them out and pretend i'm going somewhere fancy.  (a.k.a. i just wear them around the house.)

two weeks ago i wore heels to church.  i own exactly one pair of heels and that three hours was the most wear they've gotten in the last, oh....four years or so.

i want to have plans tonight.  i want a reason to look pretty and wear my heels and a gorgeous little dress  (note to self: buy a gorgeous little dress).  even though i've pretty much come to terms with my jeans-and-tee personality, sometimes i still want to live the glam life a little.

we tend to keep it pretty low-key around here, though.  most of us don't even bathe daily.

and that's okay, too.  i can just pretend to be glamorous.

maybe i'll start teaching the boys the fine art of dress-up....

a post about nothing

i have, once again, taken an unintended absence.  i wish i had some big, exciting news to break the silence.  but alas, i do not.

i've suddenly decided i want to reminisce a bit.  please do indulge me.

2012 was a transformative year for me.  and probably (in the end), one of my best.

funnily enough though, nothing "big" happened.

i didn't get pregnant or have a baby, i didn't start school or graduate.  i didn't fall in love or get married or travel to an exotic land.  (i did read 78 books though.)

it started out being one of the worst years i've experienced*.  i was so lost, and i felt hopeless and beaten down.  i didn't see how things could possibly improve.  i began making contingency plans.

but somehow, miraculously, things did get better.  not overnight.  not in a month or even two.  but gradually, very gradually.  it wasn't until the very end of the year that i could say with any certainty, "hey.  we made it."  (and not only did we survive, but we're happy!)

i changed in 2012.  i began to discover who i really was.  as cheesy and stupid as that sounds, it is the truest thing i've said all day.  i've spent most of my life as a chameleon--one of the things i like about myself is that i can adapt quickly and with relative ease to my friends and their interests.

and one of the things i don't like about myself is that i can adapt quickly and with relative ease to my friends and their interests.

i've spent a lot of time being other people, so when the cumulative events of last year struck (allow me to invoke a wee bit of melodrama and say it was a bit of a crisis year), i was forced to figure myself out.

and it was one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

i'm hoping to continue that trend this year--one of my resolutions is to "be heather" (thank you, gretchen rubin).

happy 2013, my internet friends.  (17 days late, yes.)



*i know it's highly annoying when people talk about their lives in vague, cryptic terms.  my apologies.  i'll try to fill in more details later if i deem it appropriate.

figuring out my hair

so, now that i've had four days to get used to the cut, i think i can officially say that i'm happy with my hair.

(whew.)

the first day i had it cut, i felt amazing.  liberated, beautiful, awesome.

then i woke up the next morning, took a look at myself in the mirror and had my first "what did i just do" moment.  day 2 i was pretty iffy.  i didn't like how layered the back was--it was giving off a serious "mom hair" vibe.  (no offense, all other moms with hair.)  on day 2 i decided to cut it shorter and booked an appointment for saturday.

on day 3 i was still adjusting, but liking my cut more.  getting sort of bored of the "down and straight" look i'd been sporting.

day 4, i figured out a new way to style it,

no curling iron or straightener necessary.  add a little product, et voila.  blast it with a hair dryer for a minute if you want extra volume.

and decided that instead of cutting it even shorter, i was going to give it a month or two to let the back layers grow out a bit.  i cancelled my saturday appointment and vowed to buy some more cute headbands and stalk pixie-haired youtubers for styling inspiration.

desmond. my other hair muse.

i'm not really hair-savvy, but i know that having longer layers in the front gives me some room to play.  so i'm going to try to come up with some fun ways to style it.  ideas are welcome!

in the meantime, here's my slick look.

haha.

(i did not go out in public like this.)

I DID IT!

so you know how a while ago i was obsessing over pixie cuts?

well...it never stopped.  i continued to (not-so) secretly obsess.  i spent hours poring over every picture i could find, watching youtube videos of girls getting their hair chopped off, and basically psyching myself up for it.

i was still iffy until about a week ago.  i had all the usual worries...it would make my face look chubby, i would have a tiny head on a huge body, i'd look like a boy...and then, suddenly, i booked a hair appointment.

"so what do you want to do today?"  she asked as i walked in.

i grinned.  "short.  i want it short."

she looked a little hesitant.  i pulled out my laptop, showed her my pictures, and then sat down in the chair.  "cut it off!" i commanded.



hair can be an emotional thing.  i hid behind mine for years.

i wouldn't have had the confidence to do this in high school.  (and quite honestly, i didn't think i ever would.)

but i've come a long way in 5 years.

my hair was getting boring, so i decided to get rid of it.

and here's the shocker:

i didn't cry.  i didn't freak out.

i loved it.

(i know it's not reeaally a pixie, i wasn't quite brave enough to go emma watson style yet.  i am considering it though.)

you guys...whether or not you actually like it, i'm so proud of myself.

:)

have a lovely week.

hello my loves.

sorry it's been a while.  (you're not really surprised though, are you?)  :)

a lengthier post to come soon.  but for now, look what silas brought back from oregon!

ye olde trooper. (a.k.a. "daddy's big twuck!")

  i love it.  we are the same age.

we are so grateful to have another car.  it's in great condition and it was such a blessing for us.

i want to drive it around everywhere because i think it's basically the coolest car i've ever seen (i love cars with character!).

but it's a stick shift.

a few weeks ago when we were at my parent's house for dinner, silas made me back the troop-troop out of the driveway.

it was an event to behold.  much laughter ensued.  (but i got the dang thing out, okay??)

and in other news...

silas shaved his beard!

the end.  rock on, beautiful people.

dress-up

There’s something about clothes.

As much as we tell ourselves that “appearances don’t matter” and “the real person is on the inside”, clothes can change us.  Trying on outfits is like trying on possibilities—each blouse, each dress, each pair of heels is a new personality.

It’s not until you see yourself enveloped in a cloud of white tulle that you can really imagine yourself as a bride. 

And it’s often not until you’re clad in a hideous, ill-fitting, polyester tent that it really hits that you’re finally graduating.

As a child, you dress up and try on possible futures—imagining yourself as a veterinarian, a teacher, a firefighter, a ballerina, and of course, a princess.

As an adult, I have found that dressing up has not lost its allure.  Trying on clothes allows me to see myself in a new way—to test out personalities and styles, since mine is not yet fully formed.

I remember when I was shopping for jeans at the mall. I was cutting through the dress section at a department store, gazing wistfully at the array of pretty fabrics and colors I passed.  I saw this dress—a pleated grey satin number with a high collar that was intricately and beautifully beaded.  It looked like something a really elegant woman would wear to a really elegant cocktail party. 

“I could never wear that,” I thought wistfully.  Aside from the obvious modesty-related reasons (it was too short and too sleeveless), I could think of a litany of physical flaws that would preclude my wearing such a dress.  My legs didn’t look good, the halter-type bodice would make my shoulders look broad, it didn’t have a gathered waist so it would look like a tent on me…and of course, I wasn’t elegant.

On a whim, I plucked the dress off the rack and decided to try it on anyway.

Standing in that dimly lit dressing room, wearing a dress I had been sure I could never pull off, was like a revelation to me.  I looked—well, frankly, I looked beautiful.

I’d never seen myself in this way before.  I could actually envision myself at a party, laughing and talking, looking for all the world like one of those gorgeous, confident women I’d always quietly admired. 

I’d always thought that I couldn’t be one of those women.  I wasn’t the right type—not quite pretty enough, not quite confident enough, not quite her.  But in that dressing room, standing in my underwear, I realized that I had been wrong.  I could.  With the right clothes and makeup and money, I could.

And just knowing that I had that potential was enough.  I replaced the dress on its hanger, pulled my own comfortable, faded jeans and t-shirt on, and looked at myself again.

Something subtle had shifted in me.  I realized, or maybe remembered, that I had chosen my life.  It was the life of a mother and a wife, and it wasn’t an expensive or impressive or glamorous one.  But I had chosen it.  And I was happy.