So this happened.
I had to. It was either give my poor, over-processed hair a fresh start or return to my natural color, and I’m just not ready to go back. And I love it. I really do. I’ve always had short hair and I feel more like myself now.
But I actually had a moment of mourning for my hair. And it didn’t deserve it. It was unhealthy, limp, dry and breaking off. I constantly had nightmares about going bald and my stomach filled with lead every time I saw those stringy white hairs in my brush or on my clothes. And yet, when I brushed it off my collarbone or twisted a strand around my finger while lost in thought, it did make me feel feminine. I’ve never been someone who found my sexuality in my hair, I mean for most of my life I’ve rocked a bob, with bangs. But apparently all of our cultural images of what it means to be a desirable woman, did in fact, quite literally go to my head.
No matter how many times I was wrong. How many times my heart got pushed around. No matter. I’m so glad that I was never afraid to smile at handsome strangers and dream about our future together. Because recently, one smiled back.
Shoes: Vintage cowboy boots
When I was in high school I had three really close girlfriends. They were the ones I’d meet at the cranberry bog and smoke cigarettes with on our lunch break, the ones who knew all my fears, my favorite things, my family. We had a secret spot in an attic, we shared holidays, and all the hours in between the rare class we didn’t have together or the obligations that somehow didn’t include us. When we were together it felt magical, powerful, like my best self tripled. And when we were apart, it felt empty, lacking and totally boring.
We’re still in touch, barely, all living really separate lives in distant cities. After college, I assumed I would never have a crew like that again. It seemed a thing of childhood where adulthood seemed to be defined by career and romance.
But last night, something wonderful happened. I looked up at the eight laughing faces around the table and then saw the look of envy on the strangers standing nearby. There we were, a solid crew. I have it. For the first time since I was an awkward teenager, my life is once again filled with intelligent, funny, creative, interesting women with whom I gather my strength, my ego, my confidence to step out into this crazy world, the best version of myself amplified.
Silk shirt: Madewell
Weird rocker jeans: H&M
Denim jacket: 90s vintage
I hardly ever get bummed out about being single. Usually I relish my independence and the freedom I have to build my career, strengthen my friendships and indulge in total selfishness. But in times of impending natural disasters, it’s really hard to be single because you realize that you’re in it alone.
Or so I thought. I survived Sandy with my friend Joanna. We hunkered down with wine, card games and baked goods. And as the night wore on and the storm had little impact, I received numerous messages from friends inviting me to join them in their hurricane survival parties. It was the best reminder that I’m far from alone.
Weird rocker jeans: H&M
Vest: Vintage Ralph Lauren
It’s been a week since I officially changed your name in my phone to “Do Not Text.”
And you haven’t.
You’ve never really shown me whether you care if I came or went in your life.
So I’m going.
Shirt: from Buffalo Exchange
This actually is a picture from the summer, but it’s so warm today, I almost could be wearing this.
Ring: Gift from an ex. (whatever. I like it.)
"And we all want to belong to something more than ourselves ‘cause you can’t always do it alone."
My room is a total mess, so I tried to blur the edges. Clearly, I’m not fooling anyone.