I Am Your Poison Candygram in Planting Trees

Voi. Mis me ollaa? I’ve gone and curled my hair. Worse yet, I love it. I’ve invested in three separate packs of foam rollers that I can sleep in, because no, I won’t go see a person to do my hair for me and I’m not wanting to damage this brittle, fine crap with perms or heat treatments.

A before and after. I had to scroll so far back to find a dang picture of my hair not in a ponytail.

I’ve only been doing it about a week and so. Many. Women. have stopped me to tell me it’s cute or that they love it and ask what method I used. One man gave me, in a tone of admiration, ‘get a load of those curls!’ but he’s also been my hair growth buddy for the past five years, lol.

Our somewhat-boss asked me what made me decide to give it a try and, as opposed to having to explain that my life is a blur because of this pseudomania phenomenon, I had to default to ‘I don’t know!’ and a dumb smile.

Frankly, I just think it’s cool. What brought it on, though? I really don’t know. I told my nana, who loves wolves and Sonata Arctica, that Tony’s one little curly hair phase right in the middle of their career must have stuck with me. If you’ve seen the video or photoshoot for Don’t Say a Word, you know.

I PLACE BLACK CANDLE ON YOUR CHEST. THE PATH OF NIGHT IS MANIFEST.

I miss that era.

Anyway.

You may have read me say that I never understood my own reflection as myself until this mental snap I’ve had of late that yote me out of six years of depression into high, high spirits. I may be able to see my reflection as me and feel myself in every strand of my hair… but it does not make up for thirty-two-ish years of neglect. I had no idea what I was doing. My partner came and sat with me while I was putting the rollers in and can confirm I had to stop myriad times to vent because I was blowing every breaker in my brain trying to deal with it. I’ve did it four times, now, I think, and literally by the second time, I had it down like it was nothing. I told him that alone gives me so much courage, the fact that I faced the great unknown and, despite profuse anger and ranting, pushed through it and got results for it. Jännää.

Here’s what it looked like right after coming out of the rollers the first time.

I was struck so funny that I posted it on facebook with the caption “I look like an Anne Rice vampire,” to which someone we used to work with replied, “I’m going to give you the choice I never had.” …Movie nerds, the lot of them. Love it.

After playing with it for a moment, though, it became less charming dollish ringlets and more natural messy. This is absolutely the dumbest picture of me, looking like a post-divorce middle-aged dudebro on a dating app. You know the type of picture, the ‘I turned my webcam on and hit the capture button which is more effort than I’m willing to put into the relationship I’m looking for’ look. But, it’s one of my favorite pictures of the hair texture, so behold:

See what I mean, lol.

So yeah, I’ve been updating my wardrobe, hair, playing with things I’ve never bothered with, that sort of thing. Probably going through the most benign midlife crisis known to man. Part of coming out of my shell has been updating my profile picture and posting more selfies of myself and my partner onto Facebook. It lead to a comical situation that… I’m not at all used to.

I decided I would go through my friend requests that have been pending for over a year, check the mutual friends, decide who is trustworthy, and add or deny them. That lead to quite a few new additions. I didn’t realize it must give them a message that I’ve (finally) added them. It must have, because literally that evening, out of nowhere, I get in my inbox:

All I’ll say about their identity is… well, that was a grown ass man. I am… not used to this at all. That was a pretty easy go-back-and-unadd, but, hey guy, thanks for the gender euphoria. I am now as confident as I am weirded out.

In other news, my job requires non-stop power walking from start to finish, and I work a full 40 hours, so I only stop for breaks and lunch. Somehow, I tied a shoe too tight and gave myself extensor tendonitis in my right foot. Hurts all the way up to my knee. Thankfully it involves inflammation, so Ibuprofen is able to get me through the day, though. The day I hurt it, I had to leave work an hour early and I had bought a bag of frozen peas to use as an ice pack looool

Can’t think of a better use for them tbh. Tastes like foot already.

I’ve kind of stabilized my weight loss right at 140. I tasted the 3 very briefly at 139.8, but it’s back around 142ish. I’ve gotten my appetite back, so it’s not starvation related now. I’m actively working out. I’ve only been pumping a weight back and forth between arms for two weeks and already I can feel the difference at work. I’m dumbfounded. I still don’t have the muscle I had during remodel yet, back when we were moving whole aisles around and assembling and dismantling a large metal contraption over and over again. That’s the goal, though, that’s the only time in my life I’ve had girth in my arms.

I said I was going to rant about my playlists when I posted again, but I’ve been rambling, so maybe next time. I want to make an illustrated brochure (art practice being my excuse) that shows off the themes and the comedy behind some of them, then crop parts of the art to use as the playlist covers on Spotify. Thought about making this goofy looking satan mascot that shows up in most of them, reflecting the theme somehow.