Posts Tagged ‘curly hair’

Small Steps

January 6, 2019

Almost, even, baby steps.

But steps nonetheless.

I have not been exercising for a while.

Not that I’m super out of shape, work five days a week as a nanny, picking up toys, the baby, who is now no longer a baby at two years old, the six-year-old and the almost nine-year old, up and down steps, over to the park and back, and you’ll stay in decent shape.

However.

I haven’t really exercised much since I moved into my new digs.

I’ve been here now three and a half, almost four months.

Part of it is that I’m in a PhD program and the majority of exercise there is lifting a book and turning the page or fretting about having to write a paper.

I’m sure the anxiety of walking through my first semester of the program wore off a few calories, but not really in a way that was healthful for me.

I have been thinking a lot about exercise, partially because a dear friend of mine keeps sending me messages about going to this or that yoga/dance party class.

I keep saying no.

And.

I keep saying I want to.

I don’t actually like exercise.

Until after I’ve done it and then I’m all like, why the fuck don’t I do this more often.

Of course, that feeling often fades and exercise becomes a bit of a chore, but I also know, rather well at that, that feeling better is important.

It’s not just my body that feels better.

It’s my brain.

My brain needs the break from thinking.

Sometimes I just need to get into my body and exercise is a great way to do that.

One of the things I have been telling my friend is that it’s a scheduling thing.

I just can’t see myself getting up early and heading across town to do a yoga class then hauling ass back here and getting ready for work or for seeing clients.

Nothing is convenient.

I looked at pools last night, which I have done enough times to know that it really is a haul to get anywhere that has a pool.

Then I fret about how long it will take to deal with my hair.

My hair is a serious thing.

Not that I do a lot with it, per se, just that I have a lot of it.

In fact, I think my hair is the longest its been in years.

I love my hair and it’s actually easier to deal with when it’s long, I don’t do much with it, it’s just that it takes a long time to de-tangle, wash, condition, and dry.

I have naturally curly hair and if I don’t treat it right it goes bonkers.

So swimming, though imminently appealing is not always the best option for me where I’m living and with the schedule that I keep.

Then.

This morning I had a dear friend over for coffee and he mentioned the gym down the street.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I know.

There’s a gym around the corner.

I walked past it on Christmas Eve at sunset when I went for a little stroll around the block and I noticed it.

And it’s been taking up a little corner of my brain for a while now, but until today I wasn’t really taking it seriously.

My friend happened to park next to it and talked to me about it and how it was a key pad punch in and that it didn’t look busy and that it seemed really reasonably priced and wow was it close.

My friend doesn’t have a gym that close to his place and he works out frequently.

I knew when he was talking to me about it that it was the answer and I had also gotten an e-mail at the turn of the New Year regarding the gym as it was part of the mailing list I got popped on for my old yoga studio.

Too many signs saying, ahem, you want convenient and fits in your schedule?

Here you go.

So.

I went online and found out that it really is quite reasonable and there’s a student discount and I could get a membership for $55 a month.

Which is $30 less than I was paying for my yoga studio.

But I don’t have work out shoes, my brain tells me.

Buy them, you twit.

Today after my friend left I headed to the Mission to see clients and I had nothing really to do until my 7p.m. commitment and I thought, you know, there’s that place in the Inner Sunset that has a pretty good athletic shoe selection.

I went.

They didn’t have anything that worked for me, but I had the idea in my head and I knew when I got home that I would just go online and order a pair of shoes.

I had transitioned to Saucony running shoes when I hurt my ankle about five years ago now, and I wore the hell out of them for a while and I know what size works for me.

Plus.

Oh yeah.

I have an Amazon gift card my employers gave me for Christmas.

Voila!

Free athletic shoes.

And the decision to go to the gym and get a membership as soon as the shoes arrive.

I’m thinking I could even lose a little weight, not that I need to so much, but I wouldn’t mind dropping one more pant size.

“You just keep getting skinnier and skinnier,” my friend said over coffee this morning, “what are you doing?”

Not much, honestly, obviously not working out.

But when I had all the issues with the reflux I cut a few things out of my diet.

I stopped eating a hard-boiled egg in the morning with my breakfast and I stopped having a snack at night.

I think that was really about it.

I’m just basically eating less.

I don’t think I’m still losing weight, but it was nice to hear that from my friend.

I also don’t see myself very clearly.

I will often see myself as heavier than I am or think that I am bigger than I am.

Partially because, well, I was for a very long time in my life.

Anyway.

Here’s to baby steps and ordering new work out shoes and making the decision to join a gym.

A gym!

Ahahahaha.

I am now one of those people who joins a gym in January.

This isn’t really a resolution though.

More like an intention to do just a little more self-care.

The next semester will bring much work with it and I sense that having an outlet will help me deal with the homework.

And maybe.

You know.

Look sexier in a pair of jeans.

Heh.

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Sweet, Soft, Surrender

June 20, 2016

I mean.

I could have struggled with it all today.

But.

I just gave up.

Got up.

Went the fuck to yoga.

My brain was jacked up this morning, sometimes I wonder if it ever really sleeps.

The constant plotting.

However.

I am grateful I got up.

I was thinking that I might not make it to yoga this morning or today at all, considering how late I was up last night and then, I might feel bad and bash myself for staying up late.

It didn’t happen that way at all.

Instead I just rolled over, got up, drank some iced coffee, made my bed, said the stuff, asked for the willingness to show up to the mat, the day, my noon get together and read with my lady person, and then to have a good day, to show up for my recovery, where ever and however that looked like.

And then I went to yoga.

Happy to be there, getting into it, letting my body be there, watching my thoughts drift in and out, the specious way some want to stick and have me obsess over them, and the ease with which I was able to let things go once I was in my body and in my breath.

It was a good class and some times, most times, I show up with expectations.

Today marked four months of showing up for the mat.

Not always real happy about it when I’m on my way there, but always happy when I leave.

Sometimes there is a hope for some sort of breakthrough with my body and how it moves.

But often times.

It is that I am seeking something else.

A drift in the senses and loosened in my body, the spirit enters and I am gone into this other place.

I can become a spiritual seeker of experience.

Yesterday it happened and it was during the final sitting meditation and it was mostly just being so awesomely in my body and in my person, I felt on fire, the heat in my body rising up through the palms of my hands and in my chest and heart, lifting out of me and burning bright, hot, incandescent.

Flash bombed into the present, rocketed forward, set afire and cast upon the sea to burn like a candle in a cup at low tide on a full mooned night.

Today I had a vision.

I swear I only had iced coffee before class.

Really.

Anyway.

I felt love and sensed that there was a shift, something moving in me, something changing, that I was moving forward towards this great ball of sun, this ineffable, unavoidable collision with someone.

I had the awareness of meteors streaking past.

Men and dating and relationships.

One of the comets had little black framed glasses and I remember turning in the vision for a moment, watching him streak away from me.

I realized it was here.

This thing, this love, this moment, hurtling through space and there was nothing to do, nowhere go, so big, so vast, so all encompassing this experience that I could not avoid it.

“Look up, look out, look right in front of you, it is there,” I heard this calm, centered, even and candid voice, I looked in and out and there again, the ball of sun, this gigantic star of light and fire and heat and I had nothing to do but take care of myself.

It will happen when you least expect it, when you’re not looking for it.

I realized.

I don’t have to look.

I don’t have to struggle.

It is there and all I have to do is keep doing the deal for myself and love myself and like the warm sun on my face I would arrive exactly where I was supposed to be with whomever I was supposed to be there with.

No need to worry.

No cause for anxiety.

A sweet, soft surrender, the smooth satiny nacre of the shell I found on the walk I had this afternoon at the beach, the touch of it so seductive I kept my thumb there where the rough shell had been chipped away to reveal the pearlescent core underneath, an utterance of joy on my mouth, the cold wash of the water over my feet, the wind in my curls and the sun on my face.

Nothing wrong.

All is good.

Contentment layered over me wrapped me up in downy soft feathers of light and I drifted down the beach like the curls of foam pushed by the waves.

I was bathed in light today.

Warmth.

Summer.

Sunshine.

I am brown and honey gold and slightly freckled.

And quite pink with my curly bouquet of new hair color, which would amuse me with it’s bright scintillating magenta out of the corner of my eye, stopping to wave a a little girl toddling down toward the sea with her shovel, her face a goggle with curiosity at the sight of my corona of pink curls splashing about my happy face.

I smiled.

She smiled back at me.

There was the soft goodbye, the meander down the beach, the couple holding hands and bent over gathering shells and rocks from the incoming tide.

There was the sweet missive, the opening of heart, the ending of silence, the negotiation of sunlight in my soul and letting go of a soft sorrow I had not even realized was lying on my heart.

My laughter in the back yard as I talked with my person and got some suggestions and then using them and they worked!

The remonstrances of my heart melted away and the day was new and bright.

I sat on the back porch and ate my lunch, bare feet up on the wrought iron patio chair, eyes closed, the great red fire rose of sun blossoming on the insides of my eyelids.

Just here.

Love.

Always here.

Love.

Just look up.

Look out.

Waiting for you.

Walking toward you.

Inescapable joy.

And.

Freedom.

Release from sorrow and the quiet, sure knowing that as I hurtle toward that unknown destiny, love carries me through everything I need to experience to get me to exactly where I am supposed to be.

I suppose some might call that Fate.

Or.

Superstition.

Some might argue that I have no free will.

I, rather will say.

It is just faith.

Love.

Grace.

Love.

It is just love.

Love.

Aways there.

Always that.

Always.

Love.

Got Hair?

April 4, 2012

Curly Locks

Growing out the hair

 

Yup.
Finally, I have some hair.
Oh, I have had hair for a while now, but I have hair I can finally put up.
That means a lot to a girl.  I hate, hate, hate the in between stage of growing out your hair.  It truly sucks.  Fortunately this has not been too bad of a grow out phase. It has, however, taken a damn sight longer than I thought it would.
My hair grows really slowly and I always forget it. I saw Holly last night and I probably had not seen her in four months and her hair is tremendously long.  I was momentarily jealous.  My hair still has a long, no pun intended, way to go.
I actually did not think that I was going to cut my hair short ever again, and then I did.  I got it cut down right before I went to Paris in May of 2009.
It felt really radical at the time. Little was I to know that it was just the beginning of radical.
Calvin, Solid Gold Salon, Sexy-As-Fuck, Wears, went to town on my head.  I mean town. I had so many different colors, cuts, and styles, it was not even funny.  It seemed that every other week or so I was sporting a different color and the cuts got consistently shorter and shorter.
He was shaving the back of my neck, then the back of my head, then the sides and it was crazy.  I swear I was getting more hair trimmed than the boys at the barber shop down the road.
And I wonder why people thought I was a lesbian.
The hair was marvelous, it was distinct and cool and urban at all times. But my hair was rarely feminine.
Despite trying to utilize cute clips or feathers or head bands, despite trying for a gamine look, I ended up looking like I batted for the home team.
Ain’t nothing wrong with that, it just did not serve my dating life very well–I like dating men.
I realized that I wanted to grow my hair back out and it has taken some time, but the results are starting to be apparent. I have barrettes again and hair ties and last week I thought I may have to invest in a blow dryer again soon. Not yet, but soon.
I like that I have curls again too.  Kiss curls right now.  They will come in more as my hair grows longer.  My hair gets curlier the longer it gets, I have spiral curls.
And despite watching You Tube videos and having a great hairstylist and really, great genetics, I don’t do a lot with my hair. I don’t have the tempermant to play around with it.
Well, I like do ‘play’ with it, I twist my fingers through it when I am thinking or absent minded, or to give myself a little self soothing.  But I don’t really style it.  I don’t own styling products, most girls have shelf loads full and I just have shampoo an conditioner.
This morning as I was slowly drifting in and out of sleep before my alarm went off, I tossed my head to get my hair off my face. It made me smile.
That has not happened it ages, having hair fall across my face.
Growing my hair back out also symbolizes a willingness on my part to not self-sabotage one of my prettiest assets.  I have really good hair and men really like it.  And I have literally cut off my hair to be spiteful at a guy who said please don’t ever cut your hair off.
Ha.
I’ll show you.
Fuck.
That was retarded, now I don’t have hair.
Oh, I don’t regret it, I never really do, and there is a freeing aspect to it, especially the amount of time that you can save when you don’t have a lot of hair to style or muck about with.
All the things I wanted to get away from when I was ‘growing up’, glasses, long hair, books, writing, I get to now really embrace.
I like my glasses, I like my librarian up do, I like my little kiss curls around my ears, I like being pretty.
Hell, I like skirts and Mary Janes and make up and halter dresses.  I like to be girly and I want to continue exploring it and yeah, so, I might be 39 and girly is perhaps supposed to be fading toward womanly, and I’ll get there, I am sure, but right now, pretty and feminine and girly seem right on the nose.
I still tend toward a lot of adolescent trappings.  I still like glitter and pink plaid, and I found a pair of velvet, purple checkered vans on E-bay last night and as soon as I get paid, they are mine!  I have a clothing allowance to fill.
I like ribbons and bows and flowers.
I don’t like trash though.  And I don’t like cheap.
Oh, I can find me a dollar find and make it look pretty, but I don’t like looking cheap or tacky.
I can be trailer but I prefer to be a Bambi Airstream to anything else.
I like mules, although it’s been a very long time since I rocked a pair.  I like pin ups.
I like that I don’t know where the hell this blog is going.
Oh! I like running my fingers through my hair, now that I have some hair to run my fingers through.
And I like that the last time I made an appointment to have my hair done it was for color, not for a cut, emphasis on the not getting a hair cut.
In fact, I won’t be going short for a while. I will never say never as I always end up doing it and I know that at some point I will feel the need to let it all go again, but it’s going to be a good long stretch.
Pony tails here I come!

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