A walk down Alyssa’s memory lane: From blonde hair to… darker blonde hair.

People often ask me if I’m a natural blonde. I reply yes, because I am. However, do they need to know that my actual, natural blonde is probably the darkest blonde you can be without being brunette? Naaaah. I was a towhead from birth (and always thought that was actually spelled TOEhead, for the longest time), and my wispy white blonde Children of the Corn hair lasted me until I was about 10.

That's me on the left, with our brother in the middle, and April on the right. Look at me rockin my double chin!

That’s me on the left, with our brother in the middle, and April on the right. Look at me rockin my double chin!

Then, my hair became more golden and grew interesting cowlicks and stubborn waves, until it burst into mermaid-esque ringlets. In high school I messed around with all kinds of hair dyes, I was fond of pink, and at one point had a yucky purple that turned gray. Me and my friend Lisa (Hi Lisa!) would spend hours in her bathroom working out the perfect punk rock highlights. Then, one year, I went auburn. I quite enjoyed that color, and thanks to the powers of Facebook, a friend recently found this picture documenting my redhead hue.

Me on the far left. I was so skinny!

Me on the far left. I was so skinny!

For about the past ten years I’ve been a home dyer, and stuck to a golden blonde shade that needed touch ups about every five weeks. I had the best luck with the $2.99 box of Revlon ColorSilk Dye, and did it by myself on random weeknights, being careful not to touch my head as I putzed around the house for 30 minutes smelling awful.

Golden Blonde by Revlon

Golden Blonde by Revlon

For the past year, I’ve been an “ultra light” blonde, which is pretty much platinum. I had a  lot of fun with this color, but it had some significant drawbacks. The first being that I needed to do my roots about every 3.5 weeks, and I’m lazy. The second drawback was that it really washed out my face, and if I didn’t put on blush, I looked like a walking q-tip. Given that I work from home I wear very little makeup, but when I do go out, I’d rather kids not point to me and ask their parents how a cotton ball learned how to walk. The third drawback was that since it’s basically bleach, the color was killing my curly texture and making it a limp wave. It was time for a change.

Photo by Lynnette Joy Photography from three weeks ago at my best friend's wedding

Photo by Lynnette Joy Photography from three weeks ago at my best friend’s wedding

I’d been hemming and hawing about going back to my natural color for a few years, but was always too chicken. The closest I ever came on my own was during this era, which was a “Dark blonde” box dye that I felt was too red. I lasted like this for about two weeks before running for my blonde safety net.

289828_881124193196_1904198087_o

Reddish blonde.

Over the past year, I’ve been lucky enough to meet a wonderful hair stylist who really “gets” my hair. Curly hair is a pain in the butt, because it changes day to day depending on the weather, the water texture, your shampoo, your stress level. George at Floyd’s Barber Shop in Encino is awesome (and so is Mikki!), and he’s been cutting my hair the past year. At our last visit, I asked him what he would do to my hair in terms of color. He won me over with a description of a multi-tonal mix of highlights and low lights, that would allow me to grow my roots out and have a very low maintenance of about every 3-4 months. I was in, and this Friday, we went for it!

Why yes, I do post terrible before photos of myself on the internet. In the name of science! Photo collage by George.

Why yes, I do post terrible before photos of myself on the internet. In the name of science! Photo collage by George.

I really love the new look! It was a little bit shocking at first to see the newer, darker me, but I knew I liked it. I’m still not 100% used to it, but I’m already loving the fact that I feel like my face looks slimmer and I don’t need as much makeup to look “alive”. I’m also looking forward to my low-maintenance new hair routine. So, ‘fess up – is your hair your natural color? Do you dye? If you do, would you ever go back to your roots?

The after of my new 'do

The after of my pretty new ‘do

Melissa McCarthy and Elle: The Scandal Over a Coat. Really?

I’ve been living under a little bit of a self-imposed rock this week, as I’m in the thick of a huuuuuge project launching at work, but when I saw Melissa McCarthy’s pretty face splash across my computer screen a bunch of times, I knew I needed to check it out. I’m a fan of McCarthy; she’s a cousin of Jenny McCarthy, she’s funny as eff, and I think she’s a really talented actress. The scene in Bridesmaids where she steals all the puppies in the van? Brilliant. Anyways, McCarthy is under some scrutiny right now because of this Elle magazine cover:

Why? Because some people are saying McCarthy dodged a huge opportunity to show off curvy bodies by choosing to wear a coat. Huh? When I first saw the cover, the only thing I thought was, “Oh! It’s Melissa McCarthy. Love her.” That’s it. No “OMG SHE’S WEARING WOOL” or “OMG HER BODY IS COVERED UP!” or “OMG THIS IS SO UNFAIR THAT THE FAT GIRL HAS TO WEAR A COAT ON THE COVER OF A MAGAZINE”. While I kinda get where some of these critics are coming from in saying it “covers up” showing off the bodies of those of us who are lovably larger, I think it’s a littttttle bit dramatic. Quite frankly, I think she looks fantastic, and it’s actually kind of nice to see someone on the cover of a magazine WEARING CLOTHES, rather than, well… this.

Screen Shot 2013-10-17 at 9.04.35 PMHow about instead of focusing on what this brilliant, talented plus-size woman is wearing, we focus on the fact that HEY, this is pretty cool that mainstream media is diversifying by even having a talented, brilliant plus-sized woman on a magazine cover. That’s cool stuff. Even cooler? Her headline is about being one of the top women in Hollywood. Not 27 diet tips to help you weigh less than a cotton ball. Not 69 ways to make your man moan in the kitchen. Not 18 ways to make your eyes stand out more, your skin look brighter, your butt look smaller, your boobs look bigger. She’s wearing a coat. Who cares? I wear coats all the time. So do you. It’s fall. The magazine even has a feature on “the Perfect New Coat shape”. Is it the most flattering coat on McCarthy? Maybe not. Is it unflattering? No. She looks great. Who cares? She’s a comedian. She could wear a burlap sack and still make me howl with laughter.

We don’t have discussions like this about men on magazine covers. Can you think of a magazine cover with a dude on it that was scrutinized because of what the guy was wearing? The most recent controversial male magazine cover was this one, because it featured Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, and some felt Rolling Stone was celebrating terrorism as magazine covers are usually reserved for “idols”. THAT’s controversial. Not a coat. So my advice to everyone smarming over McCarthy’s chic and oh-so-cozy coat? Focus your energy elsewhere. When we have women of all shapes and sizes on magazine covers EVERY DAY, then we can get picky about what they’re wearing. For now, I’m celebrating the fact that she’s hilarious, awesome, talented and lovely, and Elle recognized it. (Side note: I once saw her husband at a local bar here and reaaaaally wanted to go up to him and tell him I loved his wife, but I figured that might be kind of a jerk thing to do considering he’s an actor and all, too!)

What do you think? Is all this uproar over McCarthy’s coat a crock of wool baloney, or is it justified in that she may have missed an opportunity to promote bigger, beautiful bodies?

 

Being Your Own Best Friend: Body Snark

This weekend, I was lucky enough to spend a few days with my sister April and my best friend Katelyn. They had caravanned down from Northern California to check out some schools for April. We shared a lot of laughs, some good discussion, yummy food and relaxing time. Being among my besties was awesome because it made me realize how these gals have helped shape who I am. They love for me — not my blonde hair, or blue eyes, or the size of my jeans. On Sunday we were walking across the road to the Tamarack state beach. April and I had to change into bathing suits in the little public restroom. I mistakenly took April’s towel when I finished up, and she had to walk across the street to us with no towel to drape around herself. As she crossed the road in her cute blue tankini, I notice two gentlemen in a car check her out. When I told her this, she said, “No, they were probably looking at my fat thighs.”

Now, I can body-shame with the rest of ’em. But I snapped to my sister, “April!!! Don’t say that about yourself. Would you say that to your best friend? Treat YOURSELF like your best friend.” Body-snark-police, I am. I think hearing my sister say that about herself was eye-opening for me because it reminded me of the very important reality that ultimately, who we love, respect and idolize in our lives has nothing to do with how they look. I love my sister for her love of singing, the inherent, ironic laziness we both share that never shows up at work and earns us accolades as extremely hard-working employees, but in our personal lives has us spending weekends in sweats. I love her for eco-enthusiasm, how she gets grumpy at me for using paper towels when I should just use washable dish rags. Despite finding her very beautiful, all of the things that make up April are not what’s on the outside. It wasn’t her thigh comment alone that inspired me to write this post. Tonight when I logged onto Facebook, a very respected friend of mine had posted that she was having trouble sleeping because of all the voices in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough. I reflected on this friend, just like I did with April above, and realized that despite her BEAUTIFUL outside, what I love about her is what’s on the inside. Her kick-ass dancing abilities, her sweet personality, the warm, inviting “Here, I’ll show you” persona that makes her an amazing teacher. We’re always so good about seeing the good in others, but how do we see the good in ourselves?

I think as women we need to work to change the dialogue in our heads, to make it NOT acceptable to become the body-snark authorities of our own selves. I’m guilty of this, too, and I’m sure I even snarked on myself several times through out the weekend. But when did it become a game to one-up each other on comments about how fat we are, how hooded our eyelids are, how oily our skin is, how blonde our hair is, how gross our pedicure looks, how long our arm hair is, how many freckles we have on our face? (Yep – every single one of these remarks was made this weekend among we three lovely women.) It’s not all our fault. It’s the magazines, the asshole ex boyfriend, the TV shows, the gossip rags, the radio shows, the “Well meaning” family member, the cosmetic companies, the diet pills, the fashion designers, the mean girls. No matter how far women come in their professional advancements, sitting next to male cabinet members and finding cures for diseases, we still decide that the sum of all of our parts is ultimately determined by our looks. This makes me feel all rage-y, and takes me back to the 15-year-old Alyssa who was dumped on AOL Instant Messenger by her first boyfriend for being a “feminazi”. I will proudly be a feminazi if it means declaring that we are enough as we are. That we don’t need to be 5’9, 125 pounds, perfectly tanned, with smooth hair, no flyaways, white teeth, a thigh gap, naturally rosy cheeks and big boobs. We ARE ENOUGH.

We can’t stop years of this bad habit overnight. Just as I overcame my habit of stress-eating, I’ll overcome the habit of body-snarking on myself. I’ve already gotten lots better, and now, when I catch myself dissing my bod’, I gently remind myself that I’m working on changing what I don’t like. I grew up in a beauty-positive household, one where my mom on a daily basis would comment on her beautiful daughters, how pretty we looked. I am thankful to my mom for that because I think despite my weight issues, I have a healthy self-esteem and confidence. I will always say the same things to my daughters and sons, because I know that even though my mom thinks on the outside we’re flawless, she really, truly sees what’s on the inside. Kindness, intelligence, compassion, courage, humor. Those are the things that make people beautiful in the way that makes you want to hold them near you. To be around them, to soak up their light. We don’t choose friends because of how they look, and if you do, you have some serious self-reflection to do. I’m challenging myself this week to be body-positive and to respectfully tell the body-snarking voice in my head to shut the eff up. You should do it, too. The world is a much friendlier place when we make peace with what we don’t like.

This post was also probably inspired by two awesome things I read this week:

1) The girl’s embarrassing photo went viral and she took charge to handle it. Read it and reap a good lesson (and note who she says most of the meant comments were from!).

2) I’m a big Amanda Palmer fan, and this weekend she wrote an open letter to Sinead O’Connor in response to O’Connor’s letter to Miley Cyrus. Palmer wrote about how rare it is to find female artists who have the balance of image/art and came back with a list of Women who Slay The Balance. Check it out here.