Done! It's healing pretty well (had it done in July), and I love it- been meaning to get it done for so so long. As follows the theme, it is named, of course!- Ellie, from About A Boy. She's a kinda crappy person, but she's also pretty fierce and scary. Plus she's played by Natalia Tena, who is one of my absolute favourite actresses (and biggest crushes, but y'know, that's by the by!). Also, if it hadn't been for Nat Tena, and therefore Ellie, I wouldn't have watched About a Boy. For all sorts of reasons, watching (and later reading) About a Boy was really important and hugely helpful for me, so I'm incredibly grateful for the forces that brought it into my life!
Showing posts with label appearance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label appearance. Show all posts
Monday, 23 November 2015
Thursday, 2 April 2015
Mirror Mirror: Body Hair
It's dangerously near midnight, I've got a super long day tomorrow, I'm exhausted... I really should be asleep. However, my body seems to have any ideas, and I'm feeling pretty bloody awake. Insert expletive here. On the other hand, this does mean that I now have time- so have a blog post. This evening, I'm talking about body hair :) Also- I feel I need to put a disclaimer- this post just represents my thoughts & feelings. I'm not talking for anyone but myself. Everyone is beautiful, and your choices on shaving etc. don't affect any of that. This is just my experience!
To talk about body hair, and my feelings towards it, we firstly need to have a bit of NotRebecca history. This probably isn't going to be fully coherent, never mind well-written. I've never really spoken at length about this, and definitely not considered posting it online. This is a bit weird, and slightly scary.
Anyway. NotRebecca history. So- I've always been the weird one. We know that, right? I embrace it. I love being weird, because it's who I am, and there's no changing that. However, it's not always been that way... The reason I embrace my weirdness so much now is because, once upon a time, it was the bane of my life. I've always been 'different', in ways that I guess I can't really explain. A bit hyperactive. Sometimes too loud; at other times very quiet. I become quite obsessed with things- Harry Potter, bears, hair dye... I wear the clothes I like. I'm not interested in fashion, or fitting in. I was never one to gossip over boys, or anything like that. Individually, it doesn't sound like much. When I read back over it, I'm just describing myself. But I'm 17 now, and my life is filled with the people I love; the people who love me back. It hasn't always been that way. Whilst I don't think I was ever bullied, there were lots of people, in primary and secondary school, who thought I was a bit 'too' weird. They didn't know how to react to me- so some of them weren't very nice. It was nothing major. In primary school, I remember playing by myself a lot- because no one else wanted to play with me; in secondary, I was aware of people talking about me behind my back. I was 'uncool' because I liked Harry Potter, and I liked school. There was at least one nickname that wasn't too nice. Again, it doesn't sound like much. But, at the time, it was difficult. At times, I just really wanted to fit it. I wanted to find out the secret to being popular, and liked- and, to me, that was synonymous with being good at- well, being a girl. That was what all the 'popular' girls seemed to have in common- that they were just good at being feminine. So I aspired to that.
How does this link to body hair? Well, when you're being teased already, you sure as hell don't want to give the people teasing you anything else to use. We were girls, hitting puberty. People were talking about periods, shaving and so on and so forth. I quickly realised that shaving was something that needed to be done- if I didn't, I was scared stiff that I'd be teased for my body hair, on top of everything else. To be a girl, you had to shave. That was pretty clear.
However, I didn't get how- and that scared me even more. I tried shaving my arm hair, because I thought it was too obvious; then I overheard someone making a negative comment about girls who shaved their arms, and I was terrified I would be found out. I shaved my legs- and left more small nicks than anything else. The girls in my class, and the shaved legs on TV, didn't have any of the small cuts that peppered my legs. I was worried that I'd be teased for those, too, for making it obvious that I shaved. Each one of those cuts was proof that I failed at being a girl- and each one could be ammunition for more teasing. Armpits I could handle, just about- but one day stubble, and I resolutely kept my arms down, just in case. Downstairs was too terrifying to contemplate, though, as a swimmer, it was unavoidable. I wore a swimming costume with shorts for a while, and avoided anything that said 'high legs'; much of my changing time was spent tugging at the bottom of my costume, making sure nothing could be seen, scared that someone would realise that- shock horror- there were a couple of stray hairs peeking out.
As you can see, it was a pretty fraught area. However, it wasn't just the opinion of others I was worried about. My own internalised views about body hair were pretty strong, too. Get ready- I associated body hair with those weird lesbian feminist things. Disgusting, right?! I couldn't possibly be one of those, nor could I internally identify myself as one. That was another reason that I shaved.
So that was the whys. That's my shaving story. However, over the past year or so, several things have happened. Notably, the whole lesbian feminist thing. Through being an out and proud lesbian and feminist, I've met some incredible people- some with body hair, some without. Last summer, I went up to London for two days, to hang out with some of the most amazing people I know. At the time, at least two of them had very visible armpit hair. I was fascinated, because, for them, it was such a normal thing. They were people I loved and admired, and they had armpit hair, and that was fine. For someone who had spent so much of her life seeing hair as a bad thing, associated with bad things, that was a really landmark point. Then, at some point around then, a friend posted a picture of her hairy legs on Facebook. The whole post became a bit of a battleground- but the stupidity of the arguments against body hair really got to me. 'Boys don't like it' sticks out in my memory as the main one. To me, this was important for two reasons- firstly, why the hell would I care what boys think?! And, secondly, even if I did, why should that change anything about how I act and I choose to appear? It's my body. I get to do what I want with it. Lastly, in September, one of my very close friends did an amazing speech on self love. For me, that was the final piece of the puzzle. My body and I- we don't get on. The body love is, unfortunately, not very strong here. But, as my wonderful friend pointed out, we only have one body. I realised then that, if I never tried to challenge my beliefs about my body, then I would spend a lifetime hating myself. That was a really scary thought. I decided I needed to change that, to get to a point where I was happy with the land I inhabit. From that realisation came another- how can I love my body when I am choosing to remove part of it every few days? How can I ever love my body when, really, I don't know what it is, in it's natural form.* In spite of the assumptions most people made- that I wasn't shaving purely to be an angry defiant feminist- my decision was fueled almost entirely by self-love. And that's one of the biggest forms of anarchy, really. Also, my experiences with both feminism and the LGBTQ+ community made me see that there really is no way to be a 'good' girl- that everyone is different, everyone presents differently, gender is a different thing for everyone.
After that, I let my leg hair grow. A while later, I let my armpit hair grow. It doesn't sound like much. For me, it was. For me, growing my hair was opening myself up to being vulnerable, and maybe being teased. But, I realised, I wasn't the young, scared girl I once was. I had become more comfortable in myself- I had embraced being weird. I was ready to let my hair down- quite literally.
As I stopped shaving just before the winter months, it was quite a while before anyone saw the fruit of my efforts (I know that sounds weird, but you get what I mean right?!). The first time anyone did, I was terrified. I was in a Law lesson, and it was hot, and I was wearing a jumper over my vest top. So- I took my jumper off. And? And the girls sat next to me started whispering and looking my way. It might not have been about me. It probably wasn't about me. That didn't matter- I was still convinced that it was. However- it was okay. I wasn't 13 anymore, and scared of being found out for not being good enough at being feminine. I was 17, and I knew that femininity was a concept and didn't define my self worth. I was 17, and I had chosen not to shave my armpits, and that was fine.
I rocked the unshaved look for a good few months, including a trip to Gambia that involved lots and lots of visible armpits/legs. I got some odd looks. I had to answer questions about it. But having the hair actually made me feel really empowered. I felt like I was kicking patriarchy in the face, just by wearing a vest top. It was cool, and I was in control. However, recently I chose to shave again. This was not a decision I made lightly. In terms of my legs, it was something to do with liking the feel of shaved legs. That sounds weird. But you get what I mean, right? For my armpits, it was more complicated. I have really prominent scarring on my arms, and that draws enough attention as it is. At the moment, I'm not entirely comfortable with that. Having armpit hair only made that attention worse, and in the end I decided that I needed to be comfortable with my scars before adding anything else to the mix. There was part of me that felt like a 'bad feminist' for shaving- again, this need to be 'good' at whatever I identify with and represent. Obviously, that's rubbish- there are plenty of feminists who shave, and plenty who don't. When I realised that I felt that way, I decided that it would be a good idea to shave again, just to try and get over this need to be 'good'. Right now I am choosing to shave my armpits and my legs. It's a flexible thing. I'm sure that in the future I'll go through times of being unshaven; and equally sure that I'll have times of being shaven. It doesn't change anything. It's just a choice I'm making at the time. And that's fine.
Reading over, I'm not sure that made much sense. It's late. I'm tired. It's a subject I don't feel entirely confident talking about, but one I feel I need to discuss all the same. Feel free to ask questions etc. Have a beautiful day, and big love xo
*This is just my experience- of course people can love their body and shave. These were just my thoughts at the time.
Anyway. NotRebecca history. So- I've always been the weird one. We know that, right? I embrace it. I love being weird, because it's who I am, and there's no changing that. However, it's not always been that way... The reason I embrace my weirdness so much now is because, once upon a time, it was the bane of my life. I've always been 'different', in ways that I guess I can't really explain. A bit hyperactive. Sometimes too loud; at other times very quiet. I become quite obsessed with things- Harry Potter, bears, hair dye... I wear the clothes I like. I'm not interested in fashion, or fitting in. I was never one to gossip over boys, or anything like that. Individually, it doesn't sound like much. When I read back over it, I'm just describing myself. But I'm 17 now, and my life is filled with the people I love; the people who love me back. It hasn't always been that way. Whilst I don't think I was ever bullied, there were lots of people, in primary and secondary school, who thought I was a bit 'too' weird. They didn't know how to react to me- so some of them weren't very nice. It was nothing major. In primary school, I remember playing by myself a lot- because no one else wanted to play with me; in secondary, I was aware of people talking about me behind my back. I was 'uncool' because I liked Harry Potter, and I liked school. There was at least one nickname that wasn't too nice. Again, it doesn't sound like much. But, at the time, it was difficult. At times, I just really wanted to fit it. I wanted to find out the secret to being popular, and liked- and, to me, that was synonymous with being good at- well, being a girl. That was what all the 'popular' girls seemed to have in common- that they were just good at being feminine. So I aspired to that.
How does this link to body hair? Well, when you're being teased already, you sure as hell don't want to give the people teasing you anything else to use. We were girls, hitting puberty. People were talking about periods, shaving and so on and so forth. I quickly realised that shaving was something that needed to be done- if I didn't, I was scared stiff that I'd be teased for my body hair, on top of everything else. To be a girl, you had to shave. That was pretty clear.
However, I didn't get how- and that scared me even more. I tried shaving my arm hair, because I thought it was too obvious; then I overheard someone making a negative comment about girls who shaved their arms, and I was terrified I would be found out. I shaved my legs- and left more small nicks than anything else. The girls in my class, and the shaved legs on TV, didn't have any of the small cuts that peppered my legs. I was worried that I'd be teased for those, too, for making it obvious that I shaved. Each one of those cuts was proof that I failed at being a girl- and each one could be ammunition for more teasing. Armpits I could handle, just about- but one day stubble, and I resolutely kept my arms down, just in case. Downstairs was too terrifying to contemplate, though, as a swimmer, it was unavoidable. I wore a swimming costume with shorts for a while, and avoided anything that said 'high legs'; much of my changing time was spent tugging at the bottom of my costume, making sure nothing could be seen, scared that someone would realise that- shock horror- there were a couple of stray hairs peeking out.
As you can see, it was a pretty fraught area. However, it wasn't just the opinion of others I was worried about. My own internalised views about body hair were pretty strong, too. Get ready- I associated body hair with those weird lesbian feminist things. Disgusting, right?! I couldn't possibly be one of those, nor could I internally identify myself as one. That was another reason that I shaved.
So that was the whys. That's my shaving story. However, over the past year or so, several things have happened. Notably, the whole lesbian feminist thing. Through being an out and proud lesbian and feminist, I've met some incredible people- some with body hair, some without. Last summer, I went up to London for two days, to hang out with some of the most amazing people I know. At the time, at least two of them had very visible armpit hair. I was fascinated, because, for them, it was such a normal thing. They were people I loved and admired, and they had armpit hair, and that was fine. For someone who had spent so much of her life seeing hair as a bad thing, associated with bad things, that was a really landmark point. Then, at some point around then, a friend posted a picture of her hairy legs on Facebook. The whole post became a bit of a battleground- but the stupidity of the arguments against body hair really got to me. 'Boys don't like it' sticks out in my memory as the main one. To me, this was important for two reasons- firstly, why the hell would I care what boys think?! And, secondly, even if I did, why should that change anything about how I act and I choose to appear? It's my body. I get to do what I want with it. Lastly, in September, one of my very close friends did an amazing speech on self love. For me, that was the final piece of the puzzle. My body and I- we don't get on. The body love is, unfortunately, not very strong here. But, as my wonderful friend pointed out, we only have one body. I realised then that, if I never tried to challenge my beliefs about my body, then I would spend a lifetime hating myself. That was a really scary thought. I decided I needed to change that, to get to a point where I was happy with the land I inhabit. From that realisation came another- how can I love my body when I am choosing to remove part of it every few days? How can I ever love my body when, really, I don't know what it is, in it's natural form.* In spite of the assumptions most people made- that I wasn't shaving purely to be an angry defiant feminist- my decision was fueled almost entirely by self-love. And that's one of the biggest forms of anarchy, really. Also, my experiences with both feminism and the LGBTQ+ community made me see that there really is no way to be a 'good' girl- that everyone is different, everyone presents differently, gender is a different thing for everyone.
After that, I let my leg hair grow. A while later, I let my armpit hair grow. It doesn't sound like much. For me, it was. For me, growing my hair was opening myself up to being vulnerable, and maybe being teased. But, I realised, I wasn't the young, scared girl I once was. I had become more comfortable in myself- I had embraced being weird. I was ready to let my hair down- quite literally.
As I stopped shaving just before the winter months, it was quite a while before anyone saw the fruit of my efforts (I know that sounds weird, but you get what I mean right?!). The first time anyone did, I was terrified. I was in a Law lesson, and it was hot, and I was wearing a jumper over my vest top. So- I took my jumper off. And? And the girls sat next to me started whispering and looking my way. It might not have been about me. It probably wasn't about me. That didn't matter- I was still convinced that it was. However- it was okay. I wasn't 13 anymore, and scared of being found out for not being good enough at being feminine. I was 17, and I knew that femininity was a concept and didn't define my self worth. I was 17, and I had chosen not to shave my armpits, and that was fine.
I rocked the unshaved look for a good few months, including a trip to Gambia that involved lots and lots of visible armpits/legs. I got some odd looks. I had to answer questions about it. But having the hair actually made me feel really empowered. I felt like I was kicking patriarchy in the face, just by wearing a vest top. It was cool, and I was in control. However, recently I chose to shave again. This was not a decision I made lightly. In terms of my legs, it was something to do with liking the feel of shaved legs. That sounds weird. But you get what I mean, right? For my armpits, it was more complicated. I have really prominent scarring on my arms, and that draws enough attention as it is. At the moment, I'm not entirely comfortable with that. Having armpit hair only made that attention worse, and in the end I decided that I needed to be comfortable with my scars before adding anything else to the mix. There was part of me that felt like a 'bad feminist' for shaving- again, this need to be 'good' at whatever I identify with and represent. Obviously, that's rubbish- there are plenty of feminists who shave, and plenty who don't. When I realised that I felt that way, I decided that it would be a good idea to shave again, just to try and get over this need to be 'good'. Right now I am choosing to shave my armpits and my legs. It's a flexible thing. I'm sure that in the future I'll go through times of being unshaven; and equally sure that I'll have times of being shaven. It doesn't change anything. It's just a choice I'm making at the time. And that's fine.
Reading over, I'm not sure that made much sense. It's late. I'm tired. It's a subject I don't feel entirely confident talking about, but one I feel I need to discuss all the same. Feel free to ask questions etc. Have a beautiful day, and big love xo
Sunday, 1 March 2015
Mirror Mirror: Hair Dye
This is the first post of a series called Mirror Mirror. I'm hoping to use this series to share with you some posts about my appearance and body image, and the decisions I'm taking (or have taken) surrounding this. Seeing as this very blog is named 'Adventures with Technicolour Hair' and my ever-changing hair has become a pretty important and identifiable feature of me, it felt like the best place to start!! I've posted about my hair before- for example, one off posts such as this one and this one. In summer 2013, I even tried to put together a brief history of my hair- one that was out of date almost instantly! However, I've never spoken at length about how the hair dye really started, or why I do it. So uh- here you go!!
Then, a little later in the year, I went to see one of the Harry Potter films with my friend. We dressed up: I went as Ginny Weasley, which meant dyeing my normally-blonde hair. Again, I marvelled, but it still wasn't anything big. I was dipping my toes in the sea of hair dye- but I wasn't ready to take the plunge.
Flash forwards a year, to when I was 13. For whatever reason, I decided I wanted more black streaks, so my mum and aunt attempted to lowlight my hair... Long story short, it resulted in a whole head of black, with grey roots. I convinced my mum to let me touch up the roots, but that was meant to be it. No more hair dye. At all. End of. Umm, until the next Harry Potter film, when I lightened my black hair with lemon and tried to make it red. I think that's when the hair dye bug started to take hold- when I realised the endless opportunities, to change my hair according to occasion and as the mood took me. There was just one more step to go...
At my secondary school, hair dye was okay- but unnatural colours were a definite no-no. So, when I decided I wanted to dye my hair pink, I couldn't just go ahead and buy the dye. I had to wait until school broke up for the summer- when I instantly dyed my hair (and body!) pink.
I was completely and utterly smitten, and couldn't wait for October, so I could dye it blue in the half-term. After that came brown, then highlights, then pink again in the summer.
After that, I kept it black for quite a while. However, I was desperate to be able to experiment further. In summer 2013, two things happened. Firstly, I shaved my hair off- making it easier and cheaper to dye my hair. Secondly, I was free of secondary school and uniform rules. Heck, that was basically permission to dye my hair as absurdly as possible!!
For months, I experimented far and wide, going every colour under the sun- including a festive red/green in the run up to Christmas. In the New Year, the dyes became less frequent, but change still occurred. I found favourite dyes (Live XXL is good; I detest anything L'Oreal), swapped hair tips with strangers (my favourite moment was bumping into two other people with the same hair colour as me; we swapped to discuss products) and discovered hair colour likes and dislikes (I like purple but my hair doesn't; I absolutely loved red at the time but it now has bad memories; pink is forever my favourite and go-to). Hair dye is a world far more complex than you would think, and not one I plan on leaving anytime soon.
But- but why? Why do I do it? Well, for one, I love the anticipation- choosing the colour I think will work best, rinsing it off and trying to gauge colour, then seeing the end result. Linked to that is that it's a good distraction- when I'm feeling crap, dyeing my hair gives me something else to occupy myself and it's a nice change. I get quite bored quite easily- and changing my hair is one way to avoid that. In addition, I see hair dye as a bit part of my expression. I am colourful and loud; my hair is no exception! I am on a journey to body positivity, but I am not there yet, so looking into a mirror and being able to at least like the colour of my hair is a big thing. What's more, it's sociable- if you have unnaturally coloured hair, you become part of a group. You get told by strangers that they like your hair. You stop others to ask what dye they use. It's great
In short, hair dye, to me, is change, positivity, freedom and expression. Bright, unnatural colours- and the dye that brings them- are as much a part of me as my nose or my legs: I would not be me without them.
***
When I was 11 or 12, my cousin decided to dye his hair blue-black. I was at his house at the time, and so my aunt decided to give me a blue-black streak, too. At first, it wasn't anything much; but, after it was done, I remember marvelling at it. I loved the 'magic' the dye had done; I loved how I could make myself look different. And that was just with one streak!! However, the streak soon faded, and I wasn't tempted to dye it again.Then, a little later in the year, I went to see one of the Harry Potter films with my friend. We dressed up: I went as Ginny Weasley, which meant dyeing my normally-blonde hair. Again, I marvelled, but it still wasn't anything big. I was dipping my toes in the sea of hair dye- but I wasn't ready to take the plunge.
Flash forwards a year, to when I was 13. For whatever reason, I decided I wanted more black streaks, so my mum and aunt attempted to lowlight my hair... Long story short, it resulted in a whole head of black, with grey roots. I convinced my mum to let me touch up the roots, but that was meant to be it. No more hair dye. At all. End of. Umm, until the next Harry Potter film, when I lightened my black hair with lemon and tried to make it red. I think that's when the hair dye bug started to take hold- when I realised the endless opportunities, to change my hair according to occasion and as the mood took me. There was just one more step to go...
At my secondary school, hair dye was okay- but unnatural colours were a definite no-no. So, when I decided I wanted to dye my hair pink, I couldn't just go ahead and buy the dye. I had to wait until school broke up for the summer- when I instantly dyed my hair (and body!) pink.
After that, I kept it black for quite a while. However, I was desperate to be able to experiment further. In summer 2013, two things happened. Firstly, I shaved my hair off- making it easier and cheaper to dye my hair. Secondly, I was free of secondary school and uniform rules. Heck, that was basically permission to dye my hair as absurdly as possible!!
For months, I experimented far and wide, going every colour under the sun- including a festive red/green in the run up to Christmas. In the New Year, the dyes became less frequent, but change still occurred. I found favourite dyes (Live XXL is good; I detest anything L'Oreal), swapped hair tips with strangers (my favourite moment was bumping into two other people with the same hair colour as me; we swapped to discuss products) and discovered hair colour likes and dislikes (I like purple but my hair doesn't; I absolutely loved red at the time but it now has bad memories; pink is forever my favourite and go-to). Hair dye is a world far more complex than you would think, and not one I plan on leaving anytime soon.
But- but why? Why do I do it? Well, for one, I love the anticipation- choosing the colour I think will work best, rinsing it off and trying to gauge colour, then seeing the end result. Linked to that is that it's a good distraction- when I'm feeling crap, dyeing my hair gives me something else to occupy myself and it's a nice change. I get quite bored quite easily- and changing my hair is one way to avoid that. In addition, I see hair dye as a bit part of my expression. I am colourful and loud; my hair is no exception! I am on a journey to body positivity, but I am not there yet, so looking into a mirror and being able to at least like the colour of my hair is a big thing. What's more, it's sociable- if you have unnaturally coloured hair, you become part of a group. You get told by strangers that they like your hair. You stop others to ask what dye they use. It's great
In short, hair dye, to me, is change, positivity, freedom and expression. Bright, unnatural colours- and the dye that brings them- are as much a part of me as my nose or my legs: I would not be me without them.
Sunday, 21 September 2014
34) Have normal coloured hair for at least a term
NB- for me, 'a term' equals six weeks. I know that isn't how it works, and that a term is around 12 weeks, broken up by a half-term. But to me it's six weeks, and that's what I meant when I created this one.
Anyway. Behold. I have managed blonde hair for, if not a term, then the equivalent (ie, six weeks). I celebrated this amazing feat by... Dyeing my hair an unnatural colour! Have a selfie whilst the bleach was on my hair (A WHOLE SIX WEEKS AGO), and a selfie from the new colour. You're welcome.
Anyway. Behold. I have managed blonde hair for, if not a term, then the equivalent (ie, six weeks). I celebrated this amazing feat by... Dyeing my hair an unnatural colour! Have a selfie whilst the bleach was on my hair (A WHOLE SIX WEEKS AGO), and a selfie from the new colour. You're welcome.
Thursday, 14 August 2014
More Hair Dye Escapades!!
Last weekend, my friend BH and I got together to do a bit of hair dyeing- we bleached then dip dyed her hair, and bleached mine completely! Was very fun, and turned out alright too- she has blue ends, and I have a blonde with hints of pretty much every other colour :)
Before
During
Dip dye bleach woo!
After
Tuesday, 22 July 2014
22nd July: Tattoos/Scars/Birthmarks/Piercings
Tattoos
None- yet!! Less than a year till I'm old enough, and I cannot wait. I have many plans!
Scars
I am very bad at shaving my legs- so I have several scars on the backs of my shins from accidentally catching my skin. I also have one on each knee- the left is from a razor that took all the skin off and very little hair; the one on my right is from my sister deciding to scare me whilst I was shaving my legs.On my fourth finger of my left hand, I've got a scar from when I was little and a fire grate fell on my finger; the nail on that finger also grows differently. Small scar on my left elbow from messing around on poolside one time and ending up falling into the pool and hitting the steps.
Finally, there are three small burn scars near my left thumb, and my left arm/shoulder has too many to count, because in the past I have self-harmed. They're really obvious, and I often sense people looking at them, and sometimes I can practically hear them making assumptions and generalisations. Though I'm definitely not proud of them, I refuse to be ashamed of them, either- they're just scars, and they're in the past. I've got to learn with them whether I like it or not, and I'm doing just that. The scars I have do not affect my self-worth, or define me in any way. In addition, there are people who feel I shouldn't blog about things; but at the end of the day, anyone who knows me in person sees them, and anyone who sees pictures of me can often make them out. They're there, end of.
Birthmarks
One on my head, in the shape of a heart- honest!
Piercings
Haha! This is where it gets complicated... There's many, and they all have literary-themed names...Nose: piercing in the right side, which I wanted for years and years and got done the second I could, last summer. I read My Sister's Keeper just after, and fell in love with Julia, so the name was an easy choice. I used to wear a stud in it, but I prefer my silver ring.
Right ear:
-Rook. I had this one done after seeing someone else with it at a university fair, and I blogged about it at the time. I expected it to hurt a lot as it's pretty thick cartilage; however, in the weeks before I had it done I'd had pretty severe toothache, as well as two dentist trips, so I think I'd got to the point of being pretty numb! I named this piercing Cassandra, because rooks make me think of castles (I'm not sure why, chess perhaps?!), and Cassandra is one of my favourite characters, from I Capture The Castle (funnily enough, one of my favourite books!). Also, it is currently slightly infected, so I apologise for that in the picture!
Left ear:
-Second lobe. I did this one myself, a few years ago. My mum pierced her ears herself when she was my age, and I knew that, so I knew she couldn't be angry about it. I hinted pretty heavily that I was planning on it, but didn't actually tell her exactly when I was going to do it till after. I've called this one Arrietty, after the character from The Borrowers, which I loved when I was younger- I even had imaginary 'borrower' friends!
-Third lobe. This is another one I did myself, and I've actually done it three times. The first time, I was told to take it out for school, so it ended up growing over. I waited till I left, and did it again- however, I didn't like the position, and when I did my fourth (which was a tricksy beast) it made most sense to let it grow over and try again another time. I redid it a few weeks ago, and it's been a lot better since! When choosing my names, I decided that I had to honour Ballet Shoes in some way (I was such a huge Noel Streatfield fan for ages and ages, and Ballet Shoes is still up there on my list of favourite books!)- however, I didn't want to single out any of the three main characters, and I didn't want to 'use up' three spaces on one book either. Therefore, this one, currently on it's third piercing, seemed to suit the name of Pauline-Petrova-Posy!
-Fourth lobe. As mentioned above, this one was hard work! I did it last October (myself...), and it wouldn't settle for ages and ages, and I kept saying 'if it's not healed by (insert date) then I'll take it out and let it grow over', but each time I couldn't let myself give in. Funnily enough, the day after exams it stopped hurting and was absolutely fine! Since then it's still been irritating at times, but it's mostly okay.It's called Tink (after Tinker Bell, in Peter Pan)- in the book, she's really feisty and sweary, which I love. I really don't like how Disney have made her into a cute kids character!
-First helix. I had this done just under two weeks ago, at the same time as my second cartilage piercing. I've wanted a helix piercing for ages and ages, and was planning on getting it much earlier, but had my rook done first instead. In the end, I waited until I had birthday money! I knew I wanted a ring in it at some point, and as cartilage piercings can't be changed for quite a while, I got it done with the ring in the first place. This one's a bit of a reward as well- a 'well done' to myself for getting through my first year of sixth form! Though I was reluctant to use the same book twice, I called this one Wendy- I have a huge, huge love for J.M.Barrie, and Peter Pan is one of my absolute favourite books just for the beauty and magic it captures.
-Second helix. My original plan was to get one piercing in my helix, and get another when I get back from Gambia next year. However, I decided that as I had the money I might as well get it done at the same time as the other! This one serves as a 'well done' for my recovery journey this year (the date I had it done was the same date that I got to 150 days clean) and a reminder to keep going. When I was younger, I absolutely loved the Wizard of Oz, so it seemed fitting to name this one Dorothy.
Plans:
Due to my mum's fears about infections etc., I'm not getting any more piercings until I get back from Gambia. Then, I'm getting my tragus done in my left (at the same time as my friend), one in the auricle of my right ear and possibly another in the helix of my left!
Thursday, 24 April 2014
11) Get ear pierced at top
When I wrote this one, I actually meant a cartilage piercing, which was next on my list of piercings to get. However, at the UCAS convention, I saw someone with a different piercing that looked really really lovely- I found out later it was called a rook piercing. I was desperate to get one, and finally got it done today! So pleased! :) Pain-wise, it was less painful than I thought at the time, then hurt a lot for around half an hour, then has been low-key pain since then, though I have heard that it takes a long time to heal (I can't change it for at least three months, and the advice is to leave it for 6-9 if possible). Though I'm still planning on getting my cartilage (and my tragus, and probably another in my cartilage, and more in my left lobe, and whatever else I fall in love with before then...), I decided that this counts as the top. So yay, another one completed!! ^.^ (Also, she needs a name- any suggestions??)
Close Up
Yayayay
Monday, 23 December 2013
Trapeze!
I forgot to share this with you! Check out where I ended up on Wednesday... (Also- I have Christmassy hair!! Half green, half red!!)
Saturday, 14 December 2013
Hair!
This is going to be a bit of a selfie post. I'm very sorry. However, I realised that there is no proof on this blog of how regularly I've been dyeing my hair! Therefore, I felt I should rustle up some pictures for you ;) Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of every colour... So it's actually a pretty limited selection! There were far, far more!
Current (Pink/Purple!)
Red (And Also Bowie)
Ravenclaw Blue For London
White (One Night Only!)
Very Blonde!
Turquoise/Blonde
Current (Pink/Purple!)
Saturday, 28 September 2013
Hair Dye :D
Can you tell I've been enjoying having no rules on hair colour?! My hair was blue last week, and is now reddish-orange, as pictured! :) Also enjoying being able to wear my nose ring with pride, though I'm paying the price for that now- my nose ring is really thin, and my nose piercing started to adapt to that. To try and stop it from closing over too much, I put my initial stud in, and now it's really really painful!
Last Week
Sunday, 7 July 2013
Hair Dye Escapades
Hair dye is a tricky business. Especially if- like me- you are resolute that you want to do it yourself. And you do it fairly often (I've got to the point where people make very sarcastic comments when I mention hair dye; I think it would be more surprising if I was planning on leaving the colour alone!).
Having just had (yet another) run-in with some hair dye, it seemed pretty pertinent to write a post about my various 'incidents'...
July 2011: My first attempt at really dying my hair a wacky colour. I chose pink. Unfortunately, I wasn't careful about washing it off. Turns out that hair dye works pretty well on your body, too. Check out the pink 'glow'- and then remember that my back was ten times worse!
To make matters worse, I had swimming that day. To try and reduce the amount of pink (and, therefore, the weird looks I was getting- had they never seen a pink person before!?), my friend's mum went out and bought lemons. Yes, I have experienced a) peeling lemons in the foyer of a leisure centre whilst glowing pink and b) scrubbing my arms with lemons in a public shower.
Of course, it's not all doom and gloom. In the end, I have
generally managed to get my hair to a state where I've been pleased
with it...
July 2011: Once I'd got over the skin fiasco, I absolutely loved my pink hair. If I hadn't, maybe the craze for weird hair colours wouldn't have started. But you know, I'm glad it did. At least it's not boring!
October 2011:
Though a lot of people were fairly shocked by the blue hair, I actually
really liked it. I think I even had a soft spot for it when it went
green. It grew on me anyway (come on, you've been waiting for that one,
surely!?)
December 2011:
Though this was for a fairly short time, I really liked my brown hair.
So much, that I tried to do it again seven months later. We've already
mentioned that; not one of my finest moments!
October 2011: This was a spray; an uneven spray. I was also rocking some kind of Miss Hoolie hairstyle.
The red spray also gave me red hands. A little like those featured in horror movies. I killed no-one, I promise!
October 2011: A couple of days later, I went for blue- and made the same mistake. Again. I think I was aiming for a part in the Smurf movie.
Having realised that the dye was dripping onto my neck, I took precautions. Is it a swim hat?! No it's a- wait, it's a swim hat. It just doubled temporarily as some kind of dye-holder. Who knows.
I also had no access to gloves. Being me, this didn't stop me. I did it anyway. Who knows, blue hands could become the next rage!
Though I liked the blue, it ended up fading very patchily to green. That was a bit weird. However, in this picture, at least I match my top, braces and glasses. All at the same time!
August 2012: The huge gap here doesn't mean there were no disasters. It just means a lack of photographs... Interpret that as you will. Anyway, I think my expression here shows how thrilled I was with this colour! I was aiming for brown, but managed to mix the conditioner (6 weeks worth!!) with the dye itself, so compensated by leaving it on for extra time. The result? Black hair with a lot of added shine.
December 2012: I even got used to my accidentally black
hair- so much so that it stayed for very nearly a year! Got to be some
kind of a record!
July 2013: I think I actually managed to stick with the
black hair for quite a while between August and now! However, being
finished with school uniform policies, I decided it was definitely time
for a change. On my first attempt, the only change was in my hand
colour, however.
As
you've probably noticed, if it doesn't work the first time, I am more
than happy to try again. So, today, I used a 'lightening' kit to try and
lighten my hair to a point at which I could dye it a different colour.
Behold, black, brown, ginger and blonde, all on one head!
In case you're wondering what brought this post on, it would be this. I'm undecided as to whether or not I like it.
July 2013: Violet. In patches.
Having just had (yet another) run-in with some hair dye, it seemed pretty pertinent to write a post about my various 'incidents'...
July 2011: My first attempt at really dying my hair a wacky colour. I chose pink. Unfortunately, I wasn't careful about washing it off. Turns out that hair dye works pretty well on your body, too. Check out the pink 'glow'- and then remember that my back was ten times worse!
July 2011: Once I'd got over the skin fiasco, I absolutely loved my pink hair. If I hadn't, maybe the craze for weird hair colours wouldn't have started. But you know, I'm glad it did. At least it's not boring!
July 2013: Violet. In patches.
Sunday, 19 August 2012
Hair!!
Dyed my hair today- supposedly dark brown. However, had a small kerfuffle with the dye and my hair looks mainly black. Was pretty annoyed about this earlier, but I'm over it now! Quite like it in fact ;)
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