I’ve done so many of these that at this point I feel that they should be numbered!
As mentioned, my anxiety is giving me issues. My PCP doesn’t appear receptive to the idea that I know it’s anxiety not depression. Yes, we are considering switching doctors.
But there is major snow with more on the way, the hus-creature is about to be in Seattle for a week, I have concerns about my ongoing prescriptions, and therefore it’s a total PITA to switch right now.
So, I’m trying good old-fashioned ways of dealing for now.
I’ve been going back to the nail salon every two weeks. It’s helping – my nails look pretty and I don’t feel the temptation to gnaw on them quite as much.
I still do – but only once they snag or break. Sadly, with current weather, this happens quite often.
And I got my hair did on Saturday.
This is involved, intricate, and takes roughly five hours.
Which is why it only happens once every four months!
So the “before” shot:
I hate pastels. So having had them attached to my head for the preceding month has been nothing short of torture. So I needed to see them die.
Now, this time my very talented stylist
Samantha Vallery – she works at Hair By Christine in Somerville
didn’t feel the need to bleach everything – and I bow to her expertise. She is the lady who cuts and colours hair professionally after all. If you aren’t going to listen to your damn stylist then why are you there?
Which left this very interesting “in progress” shot:
That dark line just below the pink? That is not a shadow oh no. What that bastarding thing is, is a tidemark of permanent brown dye. That has been on my head since just before I went back to work after having had TT. Let us think about this for a second. The Tiny Tyrant is now three. Three years old. (I know, I can’t believe it either!) So that tidemark is over two years old.
I would very much like it to bugger off now. As would my Sam – she was pulling worse faces than me while doing my new colour 🤣😂 she has declared it her mission to fix it. I do not mind this at all ☺️
We think that by September, what we can’t bleach out (and this colour has outlasted many attempts to shift it) can finally, finally, be cut out. Can’t cut it too soon else I lose a lot of length – and that… just won’t happen.
Else this couldn’t:
Yes, this is my hair for the next four months. I’m in love. It’s beautiful.
Once my roots start growing through again though it’ll make me sad 🤣😂 but with the ombré built in this time, it’s at least easier for me to upkeep it.
And… no blue! I’m really embracing the pink these days.
And the self care hasn’t been limited to purely physical.
In the last month (ie January) I’ve had two bad flare ups of pain – each lasting four days.
Yes yes, I know I need to see the doctor, but see above. I’m also trying to amass data on these new and annoying bouts of pain so that when I inevitably need to see a new doctor, I can at least attempt to bypass the tedious penis-waving (not literally) that will no doubt occur. I mean, what would I know about my body and medical conditions after all right?
And the hus-creature has been worried about me bless him for – as previously documented – he’s a bloody amazing man you know.
So he went foraging. To a shop in Brighton (an 80 minute round trip) and found so many things of joy, beauty and wonder.
Ok so, I loathe Angel Delight. But the rest? Everything is now in my cupboards. I can have hot Ribena – which is my true comfort drink when I’m unwell.
Self care – it’s important y’all.