#we had a crap ton in January. the kind that stuck around which. we don’t normally get that oof.

[foxgloveinspace]

Re: your desert tags:

This is how my heart feels about the snow right now and I’m so so distraught I won’t be able to see any this winter… I hope you see the sand soon dear 🫂✨ sending some dry air your way today

@a-little-lynx

🫂

[christmaslightsandpie-blog]

January 6, 2018

I’d neglected writing this for so long, and it took a lot of convincing to finally get myself to write. So I apologize for any fragmented thoughts and stories, but since I’ve started high school, so much has changed.

Why don’t I recap who I was before high school. Before high school, I was a girl who was constantly depressed. I was never happy. I didn’t like my friends and I had a hopeless crush on the same boy for three years. I was stuck in a rut, and I couldn’t get out. I was told high school would change that, and my god, I hoped so.

The first day came and went, and I was thrown into a whirlwind of emotions. How happy I was for a change, but how sad I couldn’t see my friends. How content I was when I could see my friends, but how angry they made me. Before I knew it, I was two months into the school year, and stuff was just heating up.

One of my best friends had a party the weekend before Halloween, as her birthday fell a few days before then. She invited me, my best friend, and one of her extremely close friends to go to a haunted house, then sleep over. We went to the haunted house and the entire time my best friend complained about how it was scared, she was cold, and just overall, sucked the fun out of the party. 

We both had work the next day. In the car her mom asked how the party went. “Good,��� she replied. “We went to the haunted house, and I wasn’t scared at all.” I cut in, telling her that she was too, in fact, scared, and she snapped at me. “Shut up, I was not.” To this day, she insists that’s why I stopped talking to her. In actuality, it was not. 

My reasons must seem petty to many, but truthfully, I argued with myself for so long about whether or not I could stand it any longer. She’s a good person, I would tell myself. And she was. She had her moments, but in the end, the bad outweighs the good, and I left.

I won’t bore anyone with details, but she was abusive— always hitting me if I made a joke she didn't like or calling her a nickname we all gave her. Now anytime someone raises their hand towards me, I flinch, and they laugh, saying, “I wasn’t going to hit you.” But they don’t know why I do that.

She treated my little siblings like crap. I’m the oldest of four children, ages ranging from nine to twelve between the three of them. This “friend” would always boss them around, tell them to do things for her, and pinning them against each other.

My last reason is that she belittled me, talking crap about me behind my back. She told me to my face that I could do it, but as I walked away I could hear the whispers of “no she can’t.” I struggled with believing in myself, and having my friends tell me I couldn't do it hit me hard.

I guess those aren’t the greatest reasons to stop talking to someone. I didn't even tell her why I didn’t want to be her friend anymore, I just stopped talking to her. And let me tell you, it hurt. It hurt to let go. It hurt to have other friends ask about it. And teachers. And parents. IT HURT! So many times I had the thought that maybe I could go back. Pretend that I’d had a hard few weeks and was dealing with some stuff by myself. But I knew I couldn’t do it. Because now my friends had a glimpse of what it was like to lose me, and if I tried again, I may not succeed leaving them.

I took a serious leap of faith that day, and when I look back, I realize how much happier I am since leaving them. I’ve gotten to reconnect with old friends and meet new ones, and I’m happy again. That leads me to my second point.

I was convinced, like most normal teenage girls, that I was in love. I had found my Prince Charming— the one I was destined to spend the rest of my life with. I had our wedding planned (even though I’d said I never wanted to get married). the name of our first daughter (even though I said I didn’t want kids), and overall our life planned together. I spent a lot of time writing a story about us as well— and it was then I realized it.

I hadn’t fallen in love with this boy. I fell in love with the thought of him. The boy in front of me didn’t care about me at all. The version I’d created was, in my eyes, perfect. He always said and did the right thing, and he had a low key crush on me. This boy wasn’t the boy in front of me. And just like that, I stopped liking him.

I’d always been given advice on how to get over people. Delete all of your messages with him. We never talked online, so done. Throw away everything he’s given you. He gave me a pencil once. But it was mine I’d lent him, so . . next. It’s extremely hard getting over someone, but it’s even harder to get over them if you’ve never dated them. This boy was no exception. 

My friends gave me all sorts of ideas. Delete the story, rip up pictures, that sort of thing. But so much of my heart had gone into those, I wasn’t ready to part with them. “Well it’s not like you’re going to wake up one morning and be over him,” they said. Well, that’s actually what happened.

Then Christmas break occurred, and a ton of stuff happened. One of my still close friends and I had a two day sleepover, starting at her house. Earlier that day, I had downloaded Snapchat for the first time (I know, I’m late) and she was helping me to learn how to use it. 

Her friend she was talking to was close to this boy in my art class, whom I am friends with. I asked if she’d get his Snapchat from his friend, and twenty minutes later, I was talking to this senior who, up until that point, had never made contact with me outside of class. We ended up talking all break, and he was totally hitting on me.

He called me cute and adorable, and even asked if it was alright that we hug when school comes back into session. I actually agreed to that, which surprised me because up until that point, the most intimate I’d gotten with a boy was hand holding. And he was a SENIOR nonetheless. 

It was my sisters that actually told my mom about this boy, and she was surprisingly okay with it. My father, on the other hand, I was still his little girl. Letting go was going to be hard to do, but I promised nothing would happen. We went on our first date the next day. 

In class, it was awkward between us. We didn’t talk, didn’t acknowledge each other, it was just awkward. Friday he asked if he could see me before school let out. I told him that I had to make my bus, and he said he’d drive me home. So I met him in our designated spot and we walked out to his car.

It was less awkward in the car. We spoke of many things, and when we got to my house, he goes, “I’m going to get out of the car so I can give you a real hug.” So he got out and we hugged, and then he popped the question. “So . . do you want that New Year’s kiss?” I said yes, and he leaned down, sealing my first kiss ever.

Words cannot begin to describe how soft his lips were. They brushed against mine for a mere second, like touching a snowflake and hoping it wouldn’t melt. Soft. Delicate. But there was a spark. Like the kind you get from rubbing your feet on the carpet and touching a doorknob. A little electric spark that will forever be reminiscent of my first kiss. Ever. 

Our relationship is complicated. How I never thought that I would be the one to say those words, but really, there’s no other way to put it. It wasn’t until we were playing 20 Questions that I asked where we were, and he told me that I was his girlfriend. At least, he’d been calling me that. 

I was ecstatic. How wonderful, it seems, to get a high school boyfriend. Unfortunately, he is a senior, and will be graduating at the end of this year, so I’m not sure where we’re going from there, but one thing is for sure: I had high hopes for 2018, and so far, they aren’t disappointing. 

[theastrophilearchitect]

I didn’t wash my hair for 5 weeks...

...in a lockdown-driven attempt at the No Poo Method.

Last year, tons of people decided to take advantage of the time with zero socialisation to try to begin the ‘No Poo’ Method - a haircare method that involves zero shampoo. Shampoo contains ingredients that strip all oil from your hair, not just the excess - all of it. The ‘No Poo’ Movement is a large group of people who wash their hair with alternative methods, such as apple cider vinegar and baking soda, or just water.

Forever, I’ve been frustrated by how often I needed to shampoo my hair - I just wanted to wake up and like how it looks without having to get it wet or fill it with product. I’ve tried to extend the time between washes before by wearing my hair up, or using dry shampoo, but I don’t like having my hair up and, too many days in a row, the constant pull of all your hair tugging on one section of your scalp causes headaches and dry shampoo leaves your hair feeling so much worse than just greasy hair.

During the in-and-out lockdowns of 2020, I continued to wash my hair every few days to maintain a sense of normalcy, but it was still frustrating, and having clean hair doesn’t do much to improve your mood when you’re stuck in the house all day doing online school.

The UK officially went into a national lockdown for the third time on January 5th, 2021, but schools broke up for the Christmas holidays on December 18th, so I began my first attempt at the ‘No Poo’ Method on the December 30th. At this point, I was under the impression I’d be back at school on January 4th, but then it was announced we’d be doing online learning at least until the 11th, then we went into lockdown, and, as of right now, the earliest we’ll be out is March 8th. So, I made my attempt.

I typically washed my hair every three days at the time - day one was lovely and clean and perfect, day two a little straggly but still clean, and day three the day I had to cope with a little grease, lest I lose my precious day two. I had recently been wearing it up when it became oily, however, so as of December 30th, it was more like every five days.

As per usual, by the morning of day three, my roots were too oily for me to be comfortable wearing my hair down as I usually would. As expected, over the next few days, the oil made its way down my hair, until day 10, where everything above the nape of my neck was absolutely slick. I caved, and I washed it. but decided to try again.

My true attempt at the ‘No Poo’ Method began on January 9th, 2021.

Day One - I washed my hair as I usually would. I don’t have particularly dry or oily hair, so I decided to use this as an experiment. I would have liked to go completely shampoo-free ultimately, but, I figured, worst case scenario, I have gross hair for a few weeks, which nobody will see, and probably get to fit a few more days in between washes when I went back to shampoo. 

It’s really not good not to wash your hair at all because it lets bacteria and dead skin build up on your scalp, but I decided I would only rinse and/or condition it after two weeks.

Day Three - I woke up on the morning of day three to find my hair, which would usually be greasy by now, completely wearable. It looked as it usually would on day two, but was its typical day-three self by about 6pm.

Day Fifteen - Throughout the next two weeks, the grease made its way down my hair. Aside from that, however, nothing much had changed. My hair was slicker and clumpier than usual, but that was it. My oil slick was still a few inches from the ends, which were beginning to get a little dry having not been conditioned for two weeks. On day fourteen, I rinsed my hair with only water and conditioned it to save my precious ends. Running your fingers through your hair when wet becomes a lot more difficult without shampoo to act as a lubricant, but, I was only a third of the way through the average transition period of six weeks, so I sucked it up. I let my hair air-dry, and by the time I brushed it out, it was still oily, but no longer left my fingers feeling like I’d eaten a bag of crisps. It wasn’t quite okay to be worn down, but it was odd - when my hair did get greasy, I was used to it being concentrated at the roots, where, now it was spread more evenly. I was also left with flakes of my scalp in my hair, apparently from finally loosening the dead skin trapped there. Despite not being someone prone to dandruff, I knew this would probably happen, so I let it be and braided it back.

Throughout the week, it seemed to be getting more oily significantly more slowly than ever before, but, of course, was still just getting dirtier.

Day Twenty-Two - A week later, I rinsed my hair again, and it reverted to exactly how it looked on day fourteen, though now it was stiffer, losing its natural wave and my roots were sticking to themselves in a way that can only be described as ‘waxy’. Now halfway to the six-week mark, I was incredibly unsatisfied with what I was seeing. It was no longer just a matter of braiding it back and ignoring it; brushing it had become laborious and there was so much skin being left on my brush. I decided it was time to try something new - I bought a boar-bristle hair brush to see if it would make a difference, since it was meant to be better at distributing oil along the strands.

Day Twenty-Three - The very next day, I rinsed it again to see if it would make any extra difference. Double-shampooing your hair is meant to make it cleaner, so surely double-rinsing would do the same - right? Wrong. It made no difference whatsoever.

Day Twenty-Eight - I rinsed my hair without conditioner a night early, and was left with pretty much the same results. My hair was now completely waxy, and my new boar-bristle brush was covered in flakes of my dead skin. Only now, I noticed that my hair brush had begun to smell, and my hair smelt similar. I had only just noticed it, however, and it wasn’t that strong, so I braided it back, and left it be.

Day Twenty-Nine - My hair and brushes smelt so bad by morning, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shampooed my brushes and washed my hair with only conditioner in an attempt to get rid of the smell. Thoroughly. As in, conditioner-scrubbed-into-the-roots twice-as-much-as-usual thoroughly. As usual, I left my hair to air-dry for the next few hours. About to go on a walk with my sister, I tried to twist it into the top-knot I had been donning those few times I was leaving the house (buns were more effective at disguising the grease, but I mainly wore it in a braid to avoid headaches) and I just couldn’t do it. I smoothed my hair as much as I could before pulling it up, but it just wouldn’t listen. I gave up, and wore it in a lovely weasel-braid out, which didn’t look so bad. However, I felt I had reached my limit. if I could no longer put my hair in a bun to leave the house, I didn’t know how I was going to survive any longer without shampoo.

This was essentially when I gave up. Having rinsed my hair both the night before and that morning, I decided to force myself to bear it for a few more days before shampooing it, but I had decided it was coming that week.

Day Thirty-Two - My hair hadn’t changed in days, but I started to really miss just having it down around my shoulders.

Day Thirty-Five - I tried to put my hair in a bun, which I hadn’t done for a few days, as an experiment. I literally couldn’t do it; when I changed my parting even a little, I suddenly became unable to detangle it, and trying to put it up was impossible. My hair had started to matt, and I decided it was officially time to wash it, which I planned to do the next morning, once I had officially hit the five week mark.

Day 35+1 - I’d been looking forward to finally washing it, and, honestly, getting the shampoo finally on my hair felt like some kind of betrayal. I made sure to use sulphate-free shampoo, because it seemed a little extreme to use my regular shampoo. My hair came out as usual, but it seemed curlier, more hydrated and less frizzy than it usually is when I initially wash my hair, but I can’t say whether that was because of the experiment or just because I used sulphate-free shampoo. 

Day 35+2 - My hair felt as it usually does the day after washing it, and looked it, too, but since it had looked this way on Day One too, I was impressed, but not willing to jump to any conclusions as of yet.

By the end of the day, however, it wasn’t as greasy as it would usually be this long after washing. It felt healthier - it was pretty healthy to begin with, but even so - and seemed longer, though that was likely just due to the novelty of having it down for the first time in over a month.

Day 35+4 - It was now a little oilier than I’d typically be willing to wear it down, but I did anyway because we’re in lockdown and no-one’s going to see me.

In conclusion: I didn't wash my hair for another two weeks after that, and even though I'm now back to a regular hair wash schedule, it now takes an extra day for my hair to become too greasy to wear, which is a success.

Would I do this again? I'd say no, because I hated it. Thanks to your good friend and mine, the patriarchy, my self-worth is hugely based on my appearance! Which hair makes a big impact on! Which made me feel like crap for a long time! It was also itchy, it felt gross, and I hated the experience.

On the other hand, my hair is now healthier than it has ever been, and even though I failed at the no-poo method, I did succeed in slowing how quickly my hair gets greasy, so there's that.