J.yaffa Jewelry

modern:rustic handmade custom jewelry

oh, spring....

Justine3 Comments

....when the young man's fancy turns to love.  

And the frantic (and inexperienced) gardener contemplates when she will have the time to plant all of the things she dreams of planting.   (Look at my little coral bells!  They bloomed this year!  And I'm going to have SO MANY DAISIES!)

And now I'm going to veer off the jewelry track EVEN MORE and talk (at length) about my hair.  So if that doesn't interest you, please see yourself out.   I got a new haircut!  And I'm really digging the mad-scientist effect.  I think I'm moving closer to being at peace with having curly hair. Growing up, as anyone with curly hair can probably understand, I HATED HAVING CURLY HAIR.  I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATED IT.  It always felt messy, it never felt styled.  It always felt unkempt.  So I cut it extremely short in the 2nd grade, and I kept it short for last 28 years or so.  I would occasionally have longer hair, but I would always end up HATING IT, and I would cut it off.  Then I somehow got it into my head that I NEEDED to have long hair.  That is was a shame that I'd never had long hair in my life.  That if I got my hair long, it would suddenly stop being my hair and be the tousled waves of someone who says they have curly hair when really their hair has a slight wave (yes, I want to punch those people in the mouth.  YOUR HAIR IS NOT CURLY! I want to shout, while shaking them till their teeth clack together.  YOUR HAIR IS NOT CURLY!  IT WON'T FORM DREDS IF YOU DON'T COMB IT FOR A DAY!) That long hair would be the answers to all of my problems.  That long hair would make me glamorous and teach me how to be stylish, and finally when I had long hair I would know how to dress myself and I would suddenly be chic. Obviously, I was deluding myself. And effing Instagram wasn't helping.  I cannot imagine how terrible Instagram would have been for me if it had been around when I was tween/teen.  My 35 year old, fairly grounded psyche can barely handle the onslaught of FOMO (fear of missing out) and evil, evil soul sucking comparison now.  I would have shriveled into a wisp of envy or turned into a soulless self-promotion robot doing duck lips and posing (artfully) with a mixed drink/ice cream cone/latte.

Since I've had the twins, I've been STRUGGLING to get my sense of style back (not that it was ever very highly developed), struggling to even just look like myself.  And the long hair (which I've never had in my life) was not helping.  I didn't know what to do with it, and I didn't look like myself with it.  And as always, I HATED IT.  I hated managing it.  I hated the amount of conditioner I needed to use. The time it would take to even get it to the point where I COULD PULL IT BACK.  That was my measure of success....did it look presentable when I managed to pull it back?  Such a low bar.  So I finally woke up and shouted "WHY ARE YOU TORTURING YOURSELF?!?!?!?!?!?!?"  Just give it up.  Some people are not meant to have long hair, and the hair growing out of your head is not meant to be long.  LOVE THE ONE YOU'RE WITH.  FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.  LOVE THE ONE YOU'RE WITH.  

And so I made an appointment with an awesome lady at The Parlour in St. John's who specializes in curly hair and had it cut off. And I like it.

(Why, yes, I did retouch the hyper-pigmentation on my forehead, thanks for asking.)

The red lipstick is to prevent me from feeling like a soccer mom with a bob.  It helps.