hair care diaries

5

Hiya dolls! here are some of my most fave products for over bleached, dry and damaged hair ! I use these ones weekly (oils daily). I tried to do a mix of high street and top qual products- but I cant stress enough that your hair is a life long investment so for gods sake spend the extra 20 quid and take good care of it yeh? :) xoxx

How I Learned To Love Myself

Before. 

Black and white portraits of myself in motion, because nobody can see my flaws in motion. 

I had absolutely no self worth. The only thing I had left was kidding myself into thinking I was still in control of things.

I was in control of not being fancied, because I was fat and had no style, and only I had let myself get that way. I was in control of not being liked because I looked weird, spoke too loudly, laughed at odd things, or because I pretended to have the confidence you wished you could achieve.

Before.

Before, I would look at photos of me, and think about all the things that were wrong, because they were the only things I could see. I would look at the images of my fat, ugly face for ages, worrying about whether I could photoshop my double chin, or smooth over something I didn’t like. 

Before.

I used to get called tree trunk legs when I was a kid, and I hated my thighs because of that. I have a distinct memory of being in P.E class, I was about six or seven, and I had on tight, shiny purple shorts. My thighs were the only thing I could see, and one of the things the other kids teased me about. I hated that I had to wear my mom’s shorts because we couldn’t afford shorts for me too. I hated that they were so revealing and tight, I hated that I had to run around in them, watching my shiny purple legs wobble with every movement.

Before.

I grew up, and never really learned to love myself along the way. 

I listened to all of the things other people said about themselves, to all the things they said about me at school, at home from my dad, or in the street from strangers, and when I looked at myself there seemed to be a disconnect there. A struggle in that when I really fought to see me, I didn’t think I was bad, or horrible in any way. But I must be, because almost everyone has something bad to say. 

My best friend looking at her slim frame, trying to grab at non-existent rolls, exclaiming how gross and fat she looked, while I stood right there, gross and fat. Doling out back-handed compliments about how I was boring for not wearing much make-up, “You don’t need it anyway, you have perfect skin.” But the boys didn’t like that, and that’s what she thought, I was the boring friend, the invisible friend. The friend always standing around waiting for my friends to finish making out with their boyfriends while I just floated around wondering why, even though they hated themselves, they got so much attention. 

So I began to hate myself. I had somehow decided that if I said things about my body that weren’t true, and agreed with everybody else that I was fat and embarrassing, then the boys and girls I fancied would notice me too. Because that’s how it worked, right? 

Besides, I thought there was plenty of time. Plenty of time to feel differently, to act differently. 

I thought, oh it doesn’t matter what I look like now, I won’t look like this in the future. It doesn’t matter that I’m fat now, I will all of a sudden eat right, and exercise to within an inch of my life, and feel good doing it. I have time.

But no. I didn’t have time, and you don’t either. 

Time is now. You and me, we are the you and me that we are now, whether we are living our ideal or not.

I slowly started to change my style, and began to learn what I actually liked to wear…

What’s wrong with not being ashamed and embarrassed of ourselves while we work on being the you and me we want to be, instead of the you and me, we think we should be because of how our old insecurities, or our friends, lovers, or family tells us we should be?

We might die finally becoming the people we see ourselves as, the people that we think would make us happier than anything else, we might die having fought and lost our true selves and everybody else along the way, but live our whole life in misery trying to get there.

After. 

I realised time was running out, and so I threw away everything that made me unhappy. The people in my life that were acting as harmful waste to my hopeful being, because I found my dreams quickly turned to nightmares, and I couldn’t breathe.

The loneliness and uncertainty of being alone and unloved (even though the “love” I was experiencing at the time wasn’t real, or good) was far less scary than I thought it would be.

I wanted that far away future that looked like fun, that cool life I always wanted, to be happening now.

I dyed my hair and started wearing pretty dresses. 

After.

So, I no longer looked in the mirror wishing my belly was less round, or my thighs weren’t so big.

I saw what I had really been thinking all along, that the shape of my body is sexy. The shade of my skin is pretty not pasty, and the freckles on my face are beautiful.

I could finally see that I had a whole world to find. Whether that was in finding a new me, and/or new people to love and live besides.

The girl smiled. She suddenly realised she wasn’t so bad after all.

After. 

And I saw it again and again, every day. Excited to touch my own body, relishing at the thought of lying in a steaming hot bath for hours, in my freezing cold bathroom, learning the new ways that made me feel good.

Now, I love my thighs. They are strong, and I look awesome in short shorts.

I spend most of my time at home naked, or just in my underwear, and it feels freeing not to have to constantly worry about the parts of me that move when I move.

I never think, and wish to be skinny, or self deprecate myself - in private, or in front of others. I don’t think about diets, or wish my face was less chubby. It’s just not a part of who I am anymore. 

When a stranger in a passing car yells, “fat bitch”, or a group of guys walk by, pointing and laughing at me, I don’t look down at myself and wonder why I’m so disgusting, or how can I change? I simply feel upset for being so mistreated, I feel angry that people think it’s okay to treat strangers (or anyone) that way, and get away with it. 

I no longer question myself, I question others, and why they feel the need to project their own fears and insecurities onto me.

After.

So, I tried to find the good people, and spoke to strangers about the new me, and felt the butterflies in my perfect round tummy swoon, and told each and every one about my real feelings. I made new friends, and kissed my way to a better place. A place where my body was celebrated not despite the things that others thought made me ugly, but loved for being the beautiful bouncing chubby gloriousness that it is.

After. 

I had just moved to London, with the city at my feet. With bare legs, and pretty hair, I felt amazing! 

My making is the result of decades of tears, self hatred, and being bullied relentlessly. I had felt as though I was actually shutting down, and beginning to die. But with a quiet ease, that I never knew was there, waiting, I said: no fucking more. 

I will not bow down to you. 
I will not let you tell me how I should feel about the way I look, what I should wear, or what I should be doing to ‘fix’ myself. 

My life means more than that. 

Underneath it all, loving myself was always there, trying to smile through the torrid weather that is life. It was just that I could finally see it, written all over my body with pride. 

After.

I am fat, and round, and pink, and rosy-cheeked, and happy.
I am loved.
And I love myself, more than I ever have, and it feels absolutely fabulous.

I smile now, when I look in the mirror. And I don’t feel anything negative about myself.  

I do my hair, and sometimes wear make-up even when I know I’m staying in because it makes me feel powerful.

The point is, I take care of myself.

I wear clothes that fit right, instead of wearing tents to hide my body, and walk the streets like I was meant to own the space I fill up without one single fucking apology, even when I don’t feel like it.

And the thing is, I know other people can feel it too. I see it all the time in the new way most people look at me now, and the way they respond to me being in my own space, and loving it without shame. 

Self love, and self worth, can be born out of the simplest of changes in your life, but the biggest, most important one of all is… never ever again saying sorry for who you are, even when you don’t like who you are. Because one day, you will. Your true self is just waiting for you to accept the you that wants to be free. <3

OH MAKE ME OVERbut like don’t ruin my hair?! It’s no secret that peroxide does a number on your tangles (wait i didn’t know I was running a bath whilst showering- oh no that’s my broken strands clogging up the drain. again.) blondes may have more fun but brunettes totally have more money and longer hair. maintaining total bleach head status means root touch ups every 5 weeks ($$$), broken bits and broken bits (ugh), and an ever present tingly scalp. here are some major dope styles to save that mane 

     Roots are IN ~ to quote the cinematic masterpiece that is Romy&Michele’s High School Reunion, “you look SO good with blonde hair and black roots, it’s like, not even funny.” take your ombre to the extreme and bleach until you reach the top of your ears. overgrown roots are a grunge girl trademark (nevermind the bollocks or nevermind the 6 inch roots yeh?) this totally saves your scalp from the harshness of chemicals and ensures that the hair growing in is healthy and strong- cause you’ll have to bleach that bit eventually! another option is to do a total bleach job and leave only a strip (1-2 in) of roots, that way the roots grow out naturally and give you even more time until your next dip into peroxide. team no yellow bands!

     PEEK A BOO STREAKS ~ a seriously underrated trend, these streaks do minimal long term damage on the hair and this style gives you the option to be cool and professional. big presentation at the office? pin the streaks up at the nape of your neck and let your natural hair keep things chic. friday night boozin? do your hun hair and make those streaks seen. low maintenance, low key, and instant cool girl factor. 

     BRIGHT DYES ~ when you inevitably dont listen to anyone when they tell you not to bleach your dark hair because, obv, you do what you want, youre left with two options… slink out into the public with crazy yellow/orange fried hair that is decidedly not soft goth space grunge (or whatever that tumblr tag is) and admit that you deserve those raised eyebrows, OR you bleach the F out of it AGAIN and hope for the best. when you bleach dark hair, it’s impossible to get it white in one go, but bleaching it again just seems like your hair will actually jump ship and leave you all together, don’t worry- BRIGHT DYES will literally save the day. your orangey-yellow tones will pick up all sorts of deep, bright hair colours which are uber fun to play with and suit all skin tones. Phew, totally still soft goth space grunge (not a thing is it? ah well). 


products to heart when you do take a walk on the wild hair side? watch this space, hair care after bleach post to come! xx Lulu