WHYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I am not truly a product junky. Yes, I have a ton of samples floating around my house, but I don't run out and buy the latest and greatest thing (Not anymore at least). I have 3 staples.

  1. Belle Butters  - Premium whipped Shea Butter
  2. Nothing But Curl Wake Up Spray
  3. Kyah Alexandria Hydra Moist Leave in Conditioner

You will noticed that third one is not hyperlinked.

Leave in conditioner lasts me a really long time. I don't need a whole lot of it. I plop a little bit on right out of the shower, and then use my Belle Butters to take me the rest of the way.

KYAH ALEXANDRIA DONE GONE OUT OF BUSINESS YALL!!!! *SOBS*

I am nearly out of it after two years (told you it lasts me a while), and I went to the website to purchase more. Every time I clicked the link to the product, it would give me an error. So I tried other links on the page. Dead as well. I went over to her Facebook page and found this:

"Hi all. After much deliberation and careful consideration we've made the decision to close down kyah Alexandra. I've had a few deaths among family and friends this year. Soon we'll have a new baby and will be attending graduate school. So as you can see a lot is going on and will be going on in the upcoming year. I will still make myself available for those who have questions about their natural journey. Therefore I will keep the Kyah Alexandria Facebook page active as well as the YouTube channel. Most importantly, I would like to thank you for all your support and business."

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!

I have a backup leave in conditioner that I use (Shea Moisture), but I don't really like it. It is watery and doesn't give me the moisture I need like Kyah. 

Do you have any suggestions on a great leave in? Have you had a product you love discontinued? What did you do?

Les Miserables

I want you to close your eyes and imagine something. I want you to picture an awkward, overweight, black teenager, around 15/16 years old in 1997-98. Her hair is wild, broken off in some places, sticking out in others. Her clothes fit, but are the complete opposite of ‘Cool.” Her parents buy for her what they can, but plus sizes for teens are not what it is today.  Imagine her at school. She’s smart, but her grades are mediocre at best. She has friends, but she fits in nowhere. A lot of the Black girls in her classes are mean and vindictive. It will be another 5-6 years before she realizes that a lot of their mean and hateful words were from pure jealousy. In the meantime she is barely surviving school.
Her father is in an out of her life. Her mother is always either at school or at work, hardly any time for her. She is on her own.
This girl was me. I was so lost for so long. I had a deep-seated loneliness, and a craving to be accepted anywhere by anyone. Don’t get me wrong. I had morals, and convictions, and held steadfastly to them (read: I was terrified to have sex). But I was different. I saw things around me differently than other people. I still do.
From age 14 to age 18 I participated in a program called Upward Bound. The highlight was every summer; you got to spend 6 weeks on a college campus. The campus I was on was Indiana Wesleyan University. You spent time in classes that mimicked what you would be going into the next year. The core classes, Math, English, and Science were the main ones, but you also got to choose ‘electives’. One year I remember taking Spanish (it was the only foreign language they offered, I took French during the regular school year). We have some free time, which I spent on computers, in chat rooms, watching movies, hanging with friends.
Two years I was in the choir as my elective. I can’t remember what we did the first year, other than the song “Dancing in the Street.” The second summer I was in choir changed my life. It changed who I was as a person.
I’d listen to musicals before. Not much however. The only two musicals I knew before this were “Oklahoma” and “The Wiz.” Our instructor introduced us to this musical called “Les Miserables.”
“He stole bread and went to prison. He kept trying to escape so they added time to his sentence. Eventually he was in prison for 19 years. All for a loaf of stolen bread.” I giggled as she told us the story. Then, we listened to the songs we would be singing. For the first (and not the last) time in my life, a chill shot through my body. Every hair on my body stood on end. This man’s plight was my plight. I was in a prison for 4 years. 4 years of high school, of misery, of being different and ostracized for it.
Then Eponine’s “On My Own.” As I am now 30 years old, I realize that every girl sees herself as Eponine at one point in her life or another. But as those lyrics blasted from the CD player, it was as if she put my soul upon the altar for everyone to see. I was Eponine. She was me.
I ended up playing Eponine for our brief musical performance. I belted each of those words as if they were my last. I showed no fear, no anxiety, because this was me. This was who I am, and this musical allowed me to show that.
The summer ended, and I was back at school, but that musical still had a hold of me. I eventually purchased (from my meager savings) what I thought was the entire musical (It ended up being the abridged version) and listened to it CONSTANTLY. I knew every word, every inflection of every song.
It sounds silly, but knowing there were people out there, who felt like me, who felt the same way I did made my life a little easier. I may not have a place in Kokomo, but it was a big world out there, and there were people out there just like me. I shed my skin of insecurity, hopelessness, awkwardness, and became stronger. I stopped caring what people thought about me. I knew who I was, and nothing anyone said, or did was going to change that.
I may not have achieved greatness, but I have carved out an amazing life for myself. I have stayed true to who I am. It was a musical that helped me find out who I am. It also led me to music I would have never heard on my own (*snort* on my own).
I went and saw Les Miserables in the movie theater this past weekend. I am not sure what I expected. What I did not expect was to be transported back to that 16-year-old girl, discovering a completely different world for the first time.  I sobbed as everyone died (They were not kidding when someone said the name of it should be changed to “Everyone Dies: The Musical”). I felt the love of Cosette and Marius. I felt it all, and felt changed again.
I know this isn’t a hair or product entry. But I had all of this in my heart. I needed to share, to make you understand who I am, where I come from, and how I got here. Thank you for taking the time to read it.

When I first went Natural

When I first went natural
Before all of my relaxed hair (what remained of it) was shorn, I imagined I would have the cute spiral curls of my hairdresser. How misguided I was about my hair. I was incredibly misguided on the thoughts of my hair. I had not seen my natural hair before. Every girl I knew had some semblance of those loose spiral curls.
Not me.
Lord, not me.
Super kinky curly in the front, even tighter in the middle of my hair, and long and loose in the back, I have a garden of textures.
A garden, that sounds better than a nightmare doesn’t it?
The fact of the matter is, I am frustrated. I haven’t been taking care of my hair and it shows. The right side of the middle of my hair feels incredibly shorter than the left middle side. My hair is dry, and because the curls in the back are looser and more elongated, without my trusty headband I have a mullet. A Billy Ray Cyrus, Achy Breaky Heart Mullet.
IT'S NOT EVEN THIS LONG!!!!!!
I’ve neglected my hair, my blog, pretty much everything.
My hair is so bad, on my days off, I am reaching for my hat. The hat has a huge hole in it, and freaked me out, but I safety pinned that sucker and went on about my business. I would wear that hat at work, but I don’t think I am allowed to wear hats at work. I never asked. Asking about hat wear for work is a little extreme even for me.
I can’t keep neglecting my hair. I can’t keep being embarrassed to go out without my hat. Or headband.
This is the first step.
What are you trying to change?

Pampering Day- The Results.

Hey guys,

Coming at you with an incredibly late post on what I did on my pampering day.

Between going to school and working full time, I get run down fairly quickly. This is not good as it will affect my work and school performance. Not to mention our household. Both my husband and I burn the candle at both ends, so our house ends up looking crazy, which is a cause for depression. No one wants the place they call their sanctuary to look like a hoarders nest. 

Never this bad, but you get the point.
Think of it as the hierarchy of needs. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is as follows:
From Wikipedia

What Maslow is saying is that your base needs have to be met in order for you to have any awareness of self. I am going to take it a step further and say you have to take care of yourself before you are able to take care of anyone else. So this is what I was going to do.
Hubs had to be out of town for work one weekend. I was going to take some time and do me and just be happy. That is what I did. 
I started off creating a hot oil treatment for my hair.
Cast of Characters: coconut oil, honey, Moroccan oil. I wanted olive oil, but I thought I was out. After I got finished, I discovered that the olive oil was on the kitchen stove. In front of my face. Bah.
I put my tea pot on to boil and doubled up two sandwich bags. I placed the oils and honey in the sandwich bags. I put the sandwich bags in a plastic container and poured the hot water in the container. 
I'm meelllting!!!!
I waited until the mixture was pretty much melted. I squished the bag between my fingers to combine all the ingredients. I then applied it to my hair and slapped a processing cap on. 
A little hint if you are going to do this, no matter how much preparation you have, it is going to get messy. Have your areas covered, and have a towel around your neck. More on this later.
I then began to draw my bath (doesn't that sound elegant!?). 
Sorry it is so blurry, its my camera phone. Cast of characters: Melon bubble bath, rose shaped soaps, giant lemon fizz ball, and essential oils that smell like Cool Water for Women. 
I ran the bath and dumped in bubble bath. I chopped off a piece of the fizzy ball and dropped it in there. I dumped in the rest of the oil and then I got to the soaps... Oh the soaps. Let me post the instructions about the soaps to you:
  • Fetch some pieces
  • Dissolve in some water
  • Scribble in the skin

I stared at them blankly, especially the scribble word. I am assuming that is a British thing, as I have never heard the word used in that context before. But oh well.

The resulting bath.. ahhhhh

 One more thing. My book.

The Playboy Prince by Nora Roberts.. ahh trashy literature!

I soaked for about an hour when a problem was becoming more and more apparent. The oil on my hair was getting EVERYWHERE. In my eyes, behind my ears, just all over the place. I eventually gave up, cleaned myself, and rinsed myself off. I twisted my hair and just relaxed the rest of the day. It was so nice. When I untwisted my hair the next day it was soft and manageable. One less stressor in my life!
What do you do to unwind? What is the most relaxing scenario you can think of?

Oh Whitney…

 

 

I wasn’t going to write about this. But after watching countless videos on Youtube today, and that hard sad ache I felt when I watched her mother be carried down the isle after her funeral, I feel like I must.

I was 10 years old when The Bodyguard came out. I had listened to Whitney Houston’s music before this. I have a memory of being twirled by my mother to ‘I wanna dance with somebody’. I remember trying so hard to belt out the notes just like her. The Bodyguard however, was one of the first tapes I owned that I listened to and enjoyed every single song. I had all the songs memorized, and made my own dance steps up to the songs (in the privacy of my room of course!).

Listening to her music and singing the songs, I believed one day that I could be just like Whitney. Growing up in a small town, and living on the side of town that was predominately white, she gave me an ideal to want to be. She was as dark as I was, with many of my features. You didn’t see that very often.

I missed watching the funeral today. I did see parts in recaps however. I smiled at the memories shared by Kevin Costner and tears ran unbidden down my cheeks for her mother and her family. I winced at Alicia Keys screaming at me.

Whitney Houston gave a fat awkward black girl hope. She showed me you didn’t have to be high yellow or have Caucasian features to make it in this world. You have your talent and your heart. That is all you really need. Some people will argue with me that it didn’t hurt the powerful family and friends she had behind her. No, it didn’t hurt. But you can’t tell me that she was carried by them. She let her voice do the talking.

Now, I don’t sing. Not in public anyway. I have a crippling anxiety when even thinking about singing in public. But thinking of Whitney in high school led me to try out for the choir. And I made it. She is one of many people who showed me a way to be the best person I could be. For that I will be forever grateful.

Good bye Whitney Houston. I hope you found the peace you never seemed to find here on this mortal coil. I hope you look down on this earth and know how much you were loved and treasured.

A change is gonna come.

 

As I sit here with fried looking hair, looking rode hard and put away wet, I have decided I need a change.

                              I googled ‘Fried Dyed and Laid to the Side’ This is what I got *Snort*

I work 40 hours a week. I come home and I work more. School work and housework never ends. It isn’t just me though. If I am working 40 hours, my husband is currently putting in 60 to 70 hours a week. A couple of days ago He didn’t get home from work until 9pm.

It is not just that though. Ever since I lost weight, I haven’t shopped for clothes I enjoy. I have work outfits that I have purchased for the sole purpose of work. They are okay looking, but they make me feel staid and just, ugh.

I am stuck in a rut. I don’t take care of myself like I should. I don’t do anything for me and my husband. We work, we come home, we pick up dinner, and we stare blankly at the TV for an hour or two before we get started on our bedroom rituals.

I’m frustrated and tired guys. I’m stuck in a rut. I was doing laundry this evening and realized I was stuck in a clothing rut as well. Let me give you the primary example I have. For about 10 years now I have bought one type of jean. I purchase the Lane Bryant Right Fit Jeans. You know the ones I am talking about. The ones that are folded up in the store. (Size 6 blue circle!). The quality has gone downhill over the years. I am not entirely sure they are real denim anymore. Plus they smell funny, no matter how many times you wash them.

Tomorrow I am making time for myself. Jeff is out of town for the weekend for work (boo), but I am going to make the most of it. I plan on doing a hot oil treatment on my hair, painting my nails, and just beautifying myself. I also plan on buying a pair of nice new jeans. I need to step out of the jean comfort zone.  I still have homework and I still have housework, but I need to focus on myself for just a little bit.

 

My questions to you: Have you pampered yourself recently? If not, why? Is it something you struggle with?

Social 46

So I told you in my last entry, that I had a bit of exciting news for you. I have been chosen as one of 46 people to represent Indianapolis and social media during the Super Bowl. It is a program called Social46. You can find most of us on twitter under #social46.
At first I was genuinely excited and nervous. As I get older I get shyer. By the time I am 40, more than likely I’ll be in a corner shaking. I was nervous because, even though I have talked to some of the people in the program on twitter, I’ve never actually met any of them. I get there and take my seat. I get kind of uneasy because I’ve just noticed something. Let me get the picture of the group so you can see:
Yeah.. Not really diverse is it?
Let me back up a little bit. Here are some quotes that can better tell you what the Social 46 is and what it is trying to accomplish:
The Social 46 is a group of 46 top influencers in Social Media selected by the Super Bowl Host Committee to promote Indianapolis and the Super Bowl through Social Media. Our group includes local celebrities social media leaders, bloggers members of the media, and other community leaders.

Our goal is to galvanize the Indy community and drive them toward social media as a way of keeping everyone involved with the Super Bowl connected. Those of us in Social 46 are serving as ambassadors to welcome people to Indianapolis and to share what Indy has to offer. We tweet with the hashtag #social46. Our hope is to make this the most talked about Super Bowl experience in history.

During our meeting, it was brought up that this is the most urban Super Bowl ever. I took a quick unofficial poll on my personal Facebook page because no one really responded on the Tale of Going Natural.  The comments and thoughts I got about it varied greatly:
My friends are nutcases, in case you couldn’t figure that out on your own accord.
Anyway, their thoughts on my page got me to thinking about myself, what I believe, what I think urban is.
Urban to me is a large diverse group of people located in an area.
I could get into details about the area they are located in, and the types of things that are around, but this is my bare bones definition of urban. There is hardly anything in this group that to me represents diversity, nor shows all of the neat ethnic backgrounds that we have here in Indianapolis.
I am initially from a small town here in Indiana. When I was a little girl, there were a total of three other black kids in my entire school. It was stressed over and over to me by my mother, my grandparents, and pretty much everyone else in my family, that I needed to doubly mind my p’s and q’s, because I am setting an example for everyone. I used to get angry. Why does it always have to be me? Why am I the one who always has to set an example for everyone else? As got older I realized the answer. Because you are the only one Leslie. You are the only reference on culture and race in that particular school. People generalize. That is just how a lot (not all) of people operate. Being the only person means that people are going to take your actions and generalize them for a whole group of people.
Now, from the picture, it looks as if I am the only minority. I’m not. I counted 3 other people, which still adds up to 8.6% (my math may be wrong though I do not think so) of the 46 people. 
With a percentage that small, some things may get overlooked about the Super Bowl and Indianapolis. Things that, maybe if you weren’t a minority, you wouldn’t know where to go (weave, ethnic groceries, ethnic hair care). So that will be my contribution to the social46. My goal is to bring as much diversity as one person can. I’ll be using my blog to accomplish this goal. I will also be reporting on the different events around the city. Stay tuned for what is probably going to be an interesting ride.

The Trouble with Tights.

 

 

Can we step away from natural hair from for a moment?

I want to talk to you about tights.

I love tights. I do. They have come out with such cute styles and colors lately.

These are from Avenue. I DIE!

 

However, I have a severe problem with tights. The sizing.

You see, I am short and round. My weight is such that I guess clothing companies feel as if I should be a specific height. I am not that height. I will never be that height.

As a result one of two things happens when I wear tights.

1. The tights are so long that I have to tuck them under my bra and hope for the best.

OR

2. I attempt to go down a size and can’t get them over the tree trunks I call thighs.

I can’t win.

I work in IT and I crawl around sometimes, but a lot of time is spent at my desk. I would love to wear skirts and dresses in the cold weather, but I just can’t find tights that suit and fit me. *sigh*

 

What are your favorite tights? Where did you get them?

 

PS: Stick with me! Next week I have some exciting news!

Naturally Me? Sometimes I don’t want to be…

I tend to avoid things that aren’t naturally me. I do this for a couple of reasons. The first one being that things that aren’t natural to you, take work. For example; math does not come natural to me. It is something I continuously struggle with on a daily. I have like 3 math courses in my curriculum. It’s rough. I am to the point now that I am proficient in algebra. Then they threw geometry at me. I knew in high school that geometry wasn’t for me. Proofs are a joke. Why am I proving that a circle is round? You have eyes! You see that circle is round!
*ahem*
Like I said, these things take time and effort to work with. Time that I don’t really have and effort that I don’t want to give. I have a full time job, I go to school part time. I am sleepy. It just seems like there aren’t enough hours in the day. I don’t have time to do things that are completely out of the ordinary.
Except…
I kind of want a weave.
Now, this is not a good thing for me. I was weaved up for my wedding. It was beautiful. However, after a week, it was a big matted ball in the back of my head. I can’t take care of it. I don’t know how to.
Weave makes me nervous. I have never been good with keeping them. They irritate my husband as well. He loves my “fluffy hairs” and whenever I get something that disguises them, or mixes in with them, he throws a tiny fit.
I guess my question(s) to you are:
Do you wear weaves? How do you wash them? How do yours not end up in a big matted ball in the back of your head at the end of the week? How often do you go back to your stylist and get a touch up?
I can’t say that even if I am satisfied with the answers to my questions, I will go out and get one. They are expensive, hard for me to maintain, and just.. ugh. But I miss straight hair sometimes, and I like the idea of playing with it.  

Best choices for us.

I am exhausted. If anyone ever told me that the holidays were an actual vacation, I think I would punch them.
Roughly a month ago I got a haircut. It was actually more of a trim. My hair grows quicker in the back than anywhere else, giving me a mullet type look. Not good.
It got me to thinking. When I was younger if you came at my hair with a pair of scissors, be it a trim or an actual cut, to correct broken off hair, I would be in tears. My hair took forever to grow, and all I ever wanted was long hair. When it was relaxed, it seemed as if I could never achieve that dream. The longest my hair ever really got was to my earlobe.
With my natural hair, no matter how bad I treat it, it grows. When I say I treat it bad, I mean I don’t tie it up every night like I am supposed to, I go longer than I should without a serious detangle, and I have hand-in-hair syndrome.
Ultimately I believe that natural hair was the best choice for myself. What about you? 
 Can you tell I am sick? I feel like crap. On my way to work.
What is the best choice you have made for  yourself?