Interrupted

My Life Thus Far
2016-11-19 08:20:48 (UTC)

A Reconciliation

Not too many people at work noticed my hair. Which was just as well. I'm not entirely in love with the way it looked today. Because of all the washing and manipulation it went through yesterday, I was a little heavy handed with the curl cream this morning. In the hopes of giving it a little extra moisture and nourishment. It worked, but it also weighed it down. There's a give and take with curly hair. More product usually means more definition, but it can go flat. Especially if it's thin (which mine is). Less product, more volume. But then you have frizz and the feeling of dryness. It's a delicate balance and my poor hair has had that balance all thrown off. Tomorrow when I refresh my curls it'll be better. I won't add any more product. By Sunday it should be fully recovered. The cut is good though. I like the shape.

I had a stranger tell me I look like Cher. That's a first, and I honestly don't know how she came to that conclusion. I know Cher went through a curly haired phase, but this lady said I looked just like her. I most certainly don't see it. Cher is half Armenian... I'm black. I dye my hair black and now I'm Armenian! Makes perfect sense. People are so strange. I'm gonna start going up to white people and ask "so... what part of Europe are you from?" It should go well, I'm sure.

There has been a reconciliation between dad an I. It was an unspoken reconciliation, but it happened. I'm officially over last week's spat. I just happened to be in the kitchen tonight when he came home and we chatted as if nothing happened. I have to be willing to let things go a little more than I currently do. I'm open-minded and receptive to ideas outside my own, but dammit if I don't hold a grudge about stupid shit.

Most people think weight loss is entirely a good thing. I have a very tumultuous relationship with weight loss. I think it stems back to the abuse I suffered as a child. When I put on weight, my stepfather was less attracted to me (or at least, I thought so), and there was a comfort in eating my feelings. I know I'm safe now. I don't have to hold onto unhealthy/unwanted weight for protection or use food as a means to soothe myself. I am allowed to be healthy and happy. Yet, as I continue to drop weight, I start to feel uneasy. It's getting to the point where my clothes aren't fitting and I might need to size down... but I can't bring myself to accept that I'm not a 12 or 14 anymore. I can't believe that I may need to buy something smaller (the pants I wore today would NOT stay up). I'm not ready to be smaller! But I want to be smaller! I feel so much better, so much healthier, and while I'm happy with my progress, I still can look at myself and see that I need to make more progress (and I'm on that path), but I also have to stifle the urge to sabotage myself for the sake of staying bigger for protection. I don't need that kind of protection anymore.




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