Posted in Personal Blogging

The Promised Updates!

Hi, there!

This is the first one in a series of  3 posts that will be uploaded to explain what’s been going on with my life.

So, read ahead if you’re interested.

If not, please skip these posts.

Soooo… first update!

My personal life:

So,  I don’t think any of you know (or if you’ve been paying attention to my profile picture on the site?) but I’ve changed my hairstyle A LOT in the last couple of years.

Now this is not really noteworthy since people change their hairstyle (and overall style) many, many times in their lives. But I wanted to talk about it because I used to be a very bland person.

Like, tbh I’m still pretty bland but now at least I learnt to hide it through make up and all the things I’ve done to myself.

To illustrate my point, here are some pictures of me at 17 (the one in red is from our senior year play of Little Red Ridding Hood… I was wearing my “grandmother’s” glasses)

377027_2592226359496_65001752_n

I pretty much looked like this the entire time, maybe the length of my hair varied a little.

Why is this relevant? Well, I was 17 and I had no idea that make up was a thing. Mostly because I live in a small town and I studied in the kind of school that required that we wear a uniform… but lbr here, no one ever just wear an uniform. All the girls wore make up and mixed up uniforms (ie. the gym shirt with the skirt, a men’s sweater instead of the girl’s sweater, sneakers instead of shoes, etc) and the guys were just as bad at it (yet again mixed up uniforms, regular shirts or graphic tees instead of the school ones, sneakers instead of shoes, etc) so it wasn’t like I couldn’t wear make up…. though considering the kind of family I have, I don’t think I would’ve been allowed to.

My older sister was allowed to wear make up… probably because she was the oldest and all that.

My other sister (I am the baby of the family) didn’t care about that, and still doesn’t.

To make things easier in picturing this my oldest sister is the smart and popular one (when she was in uni… she wasn’t popular in school) my middle sister (is that how you call it?) is the sportsy -yes, that’s not a word. I am aware of that, thank you very much- one, she’s a PE teacher and she’s always been the best at any sport she’s ever wanted to try. And I’m the weak one… okay no, but I am the least cool of the sisters, I am a bookworm and pretty pathetic tbh.

So, I never wore make up, I didn’t like to show off my forehead because I was once been told that I had a “pumpkin forehead” by one of my classmates and that struck a chord in me. My nose is a little crooked? or whatever?  I am really short and really skinny. Because of my mother I got used to wearing clothes that were too big and long for me (like sweaters and skirts… our school girl’s sweater had no shape)

Things didn’t really change in college

Exhibit A:

mostly because I 1) believed that tight clothes like skinny jeans and the like drew too much attention at me and 2) I had been brought up on the believe that wanting attention was bad and thus, I needed to be shy and humble. Yeah, those values are crap.

So I spent a while in college just… there. I wasn’t particularly doing anything noteworthy with my looks or attitude. I was pretty much used to just get by and being as bland as humanly possible, because of some bad experiences in school.

As you can see

Exhibit B: *My friends are hilarious.

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Yes, someone indeed steered the cart to make me think we were going to hit a huge stack of canned fruit.

I grew my bangs and stopped hiding my big ass forehead. Not because I wasn’t ashamed of it but because I wanted not to be ashamed of it.

I think at this point I should mention that I’m the photographer. Always. I take a lot of pictures but never of myself (you guys selfies haven’t always been a thing, okay?), so I have a bunch of pictures of people and places but not of me being a part of the situation.

So, for the first years of college I documented my life and friends… but not me (all the pictures I have were taken by someone else… and other people are not that into taking pictures of fucking everything. Wild, right?).

Then 2014 happened.

Oh, boy how things changed in 2014.

I mean, style wise it wasn’t that much, you know.

The bangs were back:

1146520_10204918709429180_5070344097120308511_n.jpg

(yeah, pretty amateur shit to do to cover my friend’s face… but it’s 4 in the morning and I won’t try harder, at least for now)

and with the bangs came something else, something unexpected.

Yup, this was the year Laly got friends. I mean, this was the year I started to open myself to the idea that maybe friends were a thing, an actual possibility rather than just people you kept in your life seasonally and then discarded as time moved. That isn’t to say that I hadn’t made friends with other people during my first two years in uni, but I had tried to hold them at arms length the entire time (my wariness was proven to be right a couple of times, but now we’re not talking about that).

So with this new development in life (and other things that were happening at the time) I grew a little more confident. I started to be more of myself and less  of a picture painted in muted colors to keep people from asking questions.

You know what came next?

I dyed my hair.

Holy shit, wild right?

(Disclaimer: I had dyed my hair black once before when I cut it short …. boy short, according to my grandfather, but I don’t really have pictures of it????? and since it was similar to my original hair color I didn’t think it was worth mentioning… here’s a picture of that back from 2013

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-maybe?- that I was able to find.)

So from 2014 to 2015 I experimented with different shades of red and let my hair grow… something I hadn’t done before because I didn’t want to have long hair? for some reason? I don’t know.

Here are some pictures of that time:

(My dad bought some of the hair dyes and since I never specified what shade I wanted… he always brought me a different one)

After that, ombre hair came into fashion… so I decided to try it. But I wasn’t ready to give up my red hair… so this is what happened.

*NOTE: You know, when I looked at this pictures at the beginning of the year (also known as the period in which I was dead inside and I kinda wanted to be dead outside as well) I really wanted to go back to how I was back then… I mean, look at me! I look really happy! wtf.

After that, at the end of 2015 I cut my hair because “I was tired of having long hair”…. that was a lie. I have no idea why I did it other than I wanted to.

*NOTE2: I’m the kind of person who doesn’t give a shit about their hair, so even though I cut off a lot of hair I didn’t cry, or feel bad, or regretted it the way my sister and cousins do. I just don’t give a shit. It’s just hair.

Here’s a picture of that:

img_20160215_155514

Then after that, and I don’t even know what I was thinking, I bleached my hair.

Here:

… and dyed it pink at the tips.

And that was stupid! Because I had already applied to my second major (also known as the program that killed me body and soul and I’m happy I’m not in it anymore) so I wasn’t going to be able to have that on for long.

…and I wasn’t.

Here:

Now, some funny things about bleaching here at home: If you do it all at once your hair will hate you and become extremely fragile… like so, so fragile. If your hair used to be red, it might look a little pink now? because why not. If you were too aggressive with the bleaching, your hair might not want to have more color in it anymore.

I know mine didn’t.

I had to go to a hair saloon where some ladies did some magic shit to my hair to get it to go back to a slightly darker shade of brown.

Then, because my hair sucks, the color started to wear off… slowly. This caused that as my hair grew longer (and I cut it at the tips) I started to look like I had ombre hair…. but like very poorly done.

I don’t think I have pictures that illustrate that.

But here’s where my hair was still brown.

Still brown? What does that even mean?!

Well… it means that after I got out of the program (that killed my body and soul) I stayed with my hair style for a couple of months until I said: “You know what? fuck it,” and bleached my hair again.

Here’s the new result:

Now that should be the end, right?

Nope.

I just did something new to my hair! If you read my other post (fuck knows when I posted it) then you know that I recently shaved my head.

I didn’t, like completely shaved it off the way us girls are forced by societal expectations to shave off our body hair. Nope. I just got a buzz cut.

Here’s the new look.

img_20161107_225337

Now, there’s a lot to be said about this new look. Mostly that I had wanted to do this for a while. Everyone in my life has heard me said at least once or twice that I wanted to shave my head, but I think they all thought I was joking.

I wasn’t.

The thing is, that I have a lot of internalized prejudices and hatred. That is not to say that I hate others… it means that I hate myself. While I support others and just tell people to do whatever makes them happy or feel good, I can never follow that same advice. When I say that people look beautiful with their shaved heads, I never thought that I’d look good.

And like I said before, I’m skinny. And I’m terrified of putting on weight, not because I think fat people are ugly or unhealthy or whatever other horrible thing people say, but because people have praised me on being skinny all my life and I don’t know what I’d be if I wasn’t skinny. I mean, I know what I’d be. I’d still be me. But I’m still scared.

I think very low of myself. I hold myself to a very high standard that I can never accomplish and I am shit at forgiving myself (and others… I really know how to hold grudges).

Shaving my head was more than a cosmetic decision. This was more than just changing my looks because I was bored or anything like that. This was me taking a risk even when people (my sister) told me I’d look ugly. Even when I told myself that I’d look ugly.

I’ve never cared about hair and all that shit, so I thought that I’d be able to do it and rock it.

And I am.

I’m happy and comfortable, and at times when I’m out on the street I forget that I have a buzz cut and that’s why some people are staring at me.

I feel really comfortable now, and I don’t think the me from the past would’ve been able to do this, because she wasn’t confident enough and didn’t love herself enough. I am not miss self esteem but at leas I’m one step closer of being it.

At least now I can say that I’m pretty or that I look pretty when others point it out. I couldn’t do that before.

But now I can. And I’m glad.

-L.

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Author:

23-year-old writer from Chile. Currently reading, writing, and trying not to lose my mind.

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