Birthday Blues

Yesterday was my husband's birthday. Not wanting to take him at his word that he didn't want to do anything special, I decided to put together a really special evening for him. 

And then I couldn't even get both candles to light. I spent the evening in tears. 

Let me fill in the middle of the story for you. I spent the whole day getting ready. I went all over town looking for the gift I had planned on giving him, but it was nowhere to be found. (Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating--I consider my two go-to stores "all over town".) I carefully studied the recipe for his favorite Egyptian dish and got all the ingredients--including a bag of wheat flour that really has no place in my gluten-free kitchen. For anyone who knows me, this is a huge sacrifice.  I got a balloon, I got out my blonde wig and planned nice, dressy outfits for myself and the kids, I got his favorite kind of cake...and these candles. 

I didn't time the cooking very well, failing to factor in the kids--pick ups taking longer than they should have, cries for attention, the whole bit. My attempt at Egyptian cooking was a colossal fail. I forgot which bag the cake was in and it smooshed to one side of the box. I didn't have time for any of us to get dressed up before he got home, I didn't have his Arabic music playing like I had planned, and I couldn't get both kids to make him a card. Besides that, I had a wicked headache and the kids were driving me absolutely crazy with their screaming. Happy screaming, but screaming nonetheless. 

And then one of the candles wouldn't light. 

And just like that, this selfless act of creating the perfect birthday where my husband would feel loved became all about me. 

Self-awareness can really be annoying sometimes. 

I am increasingly aware that, despite years of therapy for this issue, I still make everything about me. I still need affirmation like most people need water. I can only go three days without it. I know I set myself up to fail with this birthday dinner just so I could have a little "poor me, I tried so hard but nothing ever works for me" pity party and get loving attention and affirmation from my husband about everything that does work for me--or, more to the point, about me. I took on an incredibly difficult culinary challenge when I don't handle simple ones well; I actually thought my kids--my kids--could sit and make cards and dress themselves up; and I waited until the day of his birthday to shop for the gift. Somewhere deep, I think I knew I wouldn't pull it off. 

I'm pretty frustrated by the fact that I can't seem to accept who I am, inside or out. I see myself through the eyes of others, good or bad. And most of that is all in my head. 

Redefining my own beauty must involve setting realistic expectations for myself, even it means giving up all the attention I get when I fail. It must involve offering what I have, not what I wish I could have (like so-and-so does). It must involve looking at my mess of a meal and being proud to serve something that was prepared with so much love and such good intentions. 

The journey continues. 

Someone Else's Shoes

So, hopefully you've noticed that it's been awhile since my last post. Final exams and the grading that goes with it, holidays, school closures...writing hasn't exactly been a priority. Truthfully, I haven't known what to write about. How much can I really write about my life with alopecia and my journey toward a greater appreciation of my own unique beauty?

But, as happens every so often, I have entered a new phase of self-exploration. This new step was actually precipitated by the approach of another winter with bone-deep cold settling in to my body. More than anything, I truly dislike having a cold head and neck. Alopecia is a blessing in the summer, but a bane in the winter.

This year, I invested in some pashminas. Never heard of them? Apparently, they can be worn in twenty different ways:

I discovered that these thick, extra-long wraps keep my head warm, my neck covered...and people guessing about my background even more than usual!

Here is my new winter look:

I've gotten a few more "As-Salaam-Alaikum"s than usual. I feel like an intruder when I tell my greeters that I'm not Muslim. I have been questioning whether it's alright to wear the traditional garb of a culture and religion that I don't belong to. I don't mean to co-opt a symbol of the values of this culture, but it interesting what has happened since I started covering my head this way. First of all, I think this covered look is truly beautiful. There's something about a wrapping that signifies a special gift underneath that deserves to be hidden until it's intended recipient gets to discover it. Second, I feel that I might have a role to play in bridging a gap between my culture of origin and the culture I now look to be a part of. There is nothing to fear in the way people dress. As obvious as that sounds, I now know that the things which divide people are often simple ways of everyday living that look unfamiliar. I hope in this post to reflect my appreciation of a look that many people judge to be oppressive, or forced upon the women who wear it.

At any rate, this is my winter look this year, but when it warms up I will go back to baring my neck. Somehow I know I will feel much more exposed than I ever did before. Funny how stepping into someone else's shoes for a bit doesn't just change your opinion of them. It changes you, too.

It's a love thing

Well. Now that I've caught up (mostly) on midterm grading, I can get back on here and let some thoughts out of my head.

So, the seasons have changed, the temperatures have dropped, and the summer clothes have been packed away. I always love getting my fall and winter sweaters out of their boxes. They are so familiar. And yet, this year felt different somehow. I took my sweaters out and had one thought: "Borrrring." I really felt discouraged because I was looking forward to wearing nice, new outfits to work, but all I found in the boxes were...my clothes from last year.

Duh.

For whatever reason, I put a lot more clothes in the donation bag this year than I usually do. And then, of course, I bought a lot more new clothes for this season than I usually do. (But hey--I shop and thrift stores and, when I feel like treating myself to "new" clothes, Target. I'm not exactly breaking the bank.)

I've been thinking a lot about why I felt so bored and discouraged by my wardrobe this year. Even a week after buying some sweaters at the thrift store, I feel like I need to infuse my closet with more color. I want form-fitting pants. I need black boots.

Never before have I been so concerned about what I'm wearing. This has almost reached the point of obsession. The theme of all this is: How can I look more feminine? How can I feel good about myself as a woman?

I thought it was because of my hair loss, that I'm compensating for being bald. But now I think it's much, much deeper. I think I really struggle with feeling worthy. I feel unworthy of attention unless I'm "pretty", undeserving of care unless I'm sick or struggling with some burden, and unworthy of love based on who I am and not how I behave.

I'm not quite sure where this comes from. I grew up in a home with two parents who loved me. We had a lot of issues, true, but I was loved. And I was told that I was loved.

Still, the more I feel unloved inside, the more I try to make the outside look as appealing as possible. By purging my closet and then refilling it over and over, I am actually running away from the real issue: I need to learn to love myself. The outer confidence will come from that inner love. I found this blog that has some tips for ways you can practice thinking of yourself in terms of a person who can be loved:

"How to Love Yourself" from glamdolleaston

The only thing I would add is this:  Inner love will come when I see myself as God sees me--and when I accept that God loves me no matter what.

Modest Me

I love fall for so many reasons, not the least of which is this:


(from Fashionista Trends)

Fall outifts! No pressure to walk around in itsy bitsy teeny weeny non-clothes. 'Tis the season of sweaters, jeans, scarves...and minimal skin exposure.

When I was a kid, I was known for rocking the "old lady" style. Long skirts, long pants, long sleeves. Modesty to the point where family members took it upon themselves to remind me that I was a girl and could show it once in awhile.

A late, late, late bloomer, I finally started wearing tank-tops (gasp!) in college. And short shorts. Once I even walked around in a sports bra with nothing else on top. Scandalous, I know.

For the last few summers, I have actually felt pretty good about my body and my ability to wear clothes that show a lot more skin than I ever thought I'd be comfortable showing. I mean, nothing trashy. But still, my dresses were shorter than ever before, and my shoulders saw a lot more sun than usual. This summer, however, I felt overexposed. Maybe it's because I work with a lot of Muslim women, and my daughter goes to a school where so many different cultures are represented (in large part through fashion choices). Or it could be that my daughter is getting older, and I want her to be protected. Maybe it came with dressing for a professional work environment. Maybe it's just because I'm getting older. Whatever the reason, I'm getting sick of seeing skin. It takes no creativity to bare your body. But to dress modestly in a way that is still lovely and feminine? That is more artful.

(I truly hope that the picture below is not offensive to any Muslims. I only want to illustrate a point about the contrast between differing standards of clothing for women.)

Look at this picture:



Maybe it's just me, but I find the modest clothing so strikingly beautiful. An outfit like that shifts the focus from the body to the overall design.

Please understand, this is not meant to be a religious commentary. I am totally unqualified to write about Islamic codes of ethics or laws. I'm also not trying to bring judgement down on women who like to show some skin. I actually do think it's important for women of all shapes, sizes and colors to challenge the idea of which body types are "allowed" to be shown off publicly. I'm just trying to redefine what I personally see as beautiful. My own definition of what a beautiful woman "should" look like dictates my buying decisions and my level of confidence as I live in the world. I don't want to be boxed into thinking that I can only be identified as a beautiful woman if I wear clothes that reveal my feminine body.

It has been important for my growth to be able to wear clothes that make me feel lovely--and to recognize that I really do deserve to be lovely. Now I'm simply owning the fact that I really do appreciate my body enough to guard it. I realize that I actually don't want men in general to see too much of my unclothed skin.

And I really think society is coming back around to more modesty. Say what you will--a quick web search will show you that modest fashion is making a huge comeback. Not that it ever went away, but it's getting more glory now.

I'm so looking forward to putting beautiful outfits together for the fall and winter--outfits that are aesthetically pleasing, colorful, creative, and reflective of my personality and values. I'll try to post pictures of what I come up with. Until then, check these looks out!



You can't go wrong if you model your look after Princess Kate.


Why not bring the jumpsuit back?

(Check out this great modest fashion blog, Clothed Much, here.)


Sweater dress. Oh yes.

(Shop for modest fashion at Mikarose!)

Bare or covered, be beautiful you. Be true to your values.

Secret Selfie

I wore hair the other night. And then I posted a picture of it on Instagram, which also ended up on Facebook:



A friend told me that I was obviously insecure and looking for affirmation.

The funny thing is that I did get a lot more "likes" on this picture than I usually get. Maybe I was just looking for an ego boost because I'm insecure. Or...perhaps I was just playing by the rules.

Facebook is such an interesting world--at least the way I use and experience it. A post about a new hairstyle blows up with 50 likes in a minute, a new baby gets over 100 in the same amount of time, and a homemade flower arrangement gets 17-20. A post about an organization rescuing young girls from the sex trade gets...a few likes. Maybe one share.

I used to get upset about that, but I think now I just accept the fact that Facebook has its uses. For me, it's not a place to get a message across. I've tried--it doesn't work in my circle of "Friends". No--I mostly use it for keeping my mom and sister up-to-date on my latest style (given that I had no style in all my years living at home) and getting sympathy and attention when I need a quick fix. I can get those things either by posting a vague yet clearly distressed status ("Days like this make me want to hop on a bus to Texas, change my name and become a bartender") or, as in the case above, by posting a carefully-crafted picture of myself that I know looks really good. I just pretend I don't know it looks good.

Is that bad? I think about friends and family who have posted "selfies". I recognize that they are putting themselves (or one version of themselves) out there, on display, in a show of vulnerability. They/we are looking for acceptance and confirmation of the beauty we think we see in ourselves. When I post a selfie, I know I will get lots of comments. People are always anxious to tell me how good I look because, well, I'm a bald woman and need a lot of encouragement. So I post a nice-looking picture to get a few oohs and aahs. Sue me.

When we make a change that we feel good about or accomplish something we're proud of, we want to share it. People have always done this--now the audience is just bigger. Rather than asking your man if you look fat in your newest mall purchase, you can ask 400 people at the same time. And they will answer you, because they are looking for meaning in the world of appearances as well.

So yes, it is shallow. But it also speaks to something that runs pretty deep, actually. Something that I write about over and over again. If there were no audience, would we still be posting selfies? Why not? Why do we need to know that someone else will be looking at our picture before we decide to take one? Why not take a selfie just for myself?

That's my challenge for you tonight/today/this week. Take some selfies and don't show anyone. In fact, take your best selfie ever and don't show anyone. At least not for awhile. Appreciate your own beauty without the need to measure it against any standards. Fill yourself with contentment that does not come from outer praise, but from inner recognition of your place in creation (Hint: you are the crowning jewel).

If you come to this place of self-love, then you can post your picture if you want. We will all love it. No one will judge you for posting a picture of yourself just to get attention. We all do it. We all want the world to know what we look like whenever we do something that looks good. Nothing wrong with that...as long as it's not identity-forming.

A little bleeding now and then

What a mess I was today. Let me give you a picture of what I looked like at about 2:00 in the afternoon:
--a new pair of shoes had given me a bloody heel, which stained the hem of my pants;
--my earlobe was bleeding from a cheap metal earring;
--days and days of nervous finger-picking had left most of my fingers scraped and raw;
--and, I over-squeezed the teeniest little blemish on my face, leaving an oozing red blood blister.

And I didn't care.

If I had run into anyone outside, I would have stayed and chatted head-on as the occasion called for instead of pretending to get a phone call or strategically turning my face to expose my unblemished side.

I guess I've just been too tired to care lately. Either that, or I feel older. Two years ago, or even last year, all I cared about was looking good. Now, I still try to look good, but I just don't put the same amount of time and energy into it. And I feel much more free. Why try to hide my humanity?

I have a challenge for you. Give yourself a blemish. Not literally. I mean, dare to let some raw, real part of yourself see daylight. If you're bleeding, let it show instead of smearing it over with cover-up. Then take a step back and get some perspective. There are so many facets to daily human existence--do you really have the energy to fret over the assumed perception that you have both invented and yet also fear to face?

All Dressed Up

How many of you feel like it's a waste to get dressed up if no one will see you? I get these nice work digs on, drive to work, sit in the tutoring center with no customers, and then drive home to change clothes. By the time my husband gets home, I'm "bald, sweatpants, food stains" mom. I will often stay in my work clothes until he gets home, no matter how uncomfortable I am. Then, of course, I end up getting taco sauce or vegetable oil on my nice clothes. But what's the point of looking nice if no one's looking?

Why can't I just be good enough for myself?

Here's my plan:

Step 1. I'm on the hunt for super cute lounging clothes that I can feel sexy in at home.
Step 2. Time to invest in more big, dangly earrings. They dress anything up!
Step 3. Sending pics of my fancy self to hubby at work? Why not?!
Step 4. Look in the mirror at work and say "Wow, you look really nice, honey." And believe it.
Step 5. Go to the grocery store in dumpy clothes whenever I can to break the habit of wondering what people, men in particular, think of how I look.

What would you do?