Tuesday, September 5, 2017

And Now For Something Completely Inane

At least it will be the when I tell it.

I do enjoy reading some hints and tips when it comes to fashion. Mostly because I don't get out much and I'm still fine wearing my 10 year old yoga stretch pants from Old Navy. Plus I wore them in Scotland. And New York. On the airplane to Bora Bora and Palau. And for all the babies, and for all the babies' infancies (and lives) So they are kind of souvenirs now. Maybe old and worn out souvenirs. But they have memories. Like the time Malachi had a big diaper blowout while sitting on my lap. And the many times Fiona turned them  into a cheese factory with her every quarter-hour on the hour barfing for the first 6 months of her life. Sure they are old, but you can't buy clothes with pre-made memories/smells. So I'm still holding on to them.

And wearing them as I type. But  I do enjoy reading other women's fashion finds/hacks. I just don't let them influence me.

When it comes to hair...? WEll there is only so much you can do with this.

It is a little longer now. So I tried the scarf  Kateri knit me. The scarf is cozy, and kind of matches my  hair.

I suppose I could try sleeping on it differently for a new, fresh look. But frankly I'm no into anything that disrupts my current sleep situation. So we are kind of at an impasse there.
Shane took a look at it the other day, still wet from a shower, and declared the gray was really hard to see. Fashion tip from husband-take 20 years off by wearing a rain cloud over your head. But that might get my pants wet, and then the left-over baby barf smell gets much stronge.

Then there are my nails.

The chemo does some fun stuff there. Ridges. Cracks. Thinning. Splintered layers. I didn't mind too much as first. But then I started snagging them. On my nice pants. The ones I wear out to dinner (Just kidding. They are the same ones I wear to Costco.). So I knew it was time to do something. First I tried a band aid taped around the nails. But it kept falling off.

I've never been a huge fan of painting my nails. My hands get used for too much.  But I finally decided to try it and  hunted around the drawers' til I found an old bottle of red nail polish I had somehow not thrown away 'because I have children and children and nail polish do not mix!' ( I have the carpet stains to prove it.)   I was glad to have something to fill in the crevices so I painted my thumb- the biggest offender at that point- and carried on.

Then several other nails followed suit and demanded spackling.

The red polish was not the look I was going for so I broke down and BOUGHT new polish. Not being a connoisseur of polishes, I just grabbed the palest-cheapest pink I could find at the drugstore thinking that would blend in well, and this is what I got.

Shane took one  and asked,
"So did you even try?"

So then I had to remove the offending polish. 

Initially, the acetone only slightly softened the paint, and the rubbing smeared it. It literally looked like old chewing gum had 'melted' onto my nails.  So I made another trip to the store and bought NEW remover. And clear nail-strengthening polish. I don't know if the cheap polish or the old remover made it all not work well, but in the end, and with a lot of scrubbing, my nails were free and soon ready for the clear coat. Which worked well, but now at 9 months POST HSCT they are fine and I just leave them alone. The hair is still an ongoing something. Not sure it has a name. I had Shane cut the length as short as he could in the very back while the top is growing  longer, curlier, frizzier than I know what to do with. I'm hoping if I just leave it alone it will all  eventually be long enough to have a style beyond 'electric wow!' and I can cut off the frizzy bits. But for now we/I just have to live with it. 

Malachi's fashion sense could use a little help too. Though, in this picture, he'd forgotten his jacket but wanted to blow bubbles. Fiona remembered her jacket and he was amenable to wearing it. Function before fashion is my motto.  Always. One fashion tidbit I am happy to pass on to my children.

There. How's that for inane? It's enough for me, too.