Faking being a redhead, since 1999

It’s only hair, it grows back.

My mom was always very permissive with fashion and bodily modifications. And there were some things I’m not sure I’d be OK with now, believe me. It gave me a great freedom to explore and express myself, and took any ‘forbidden fruit’ temptations out of dressing, piercings, hair dyeing… and for some reason I was taken away by idea of being a redhead with freckles from very early on. A major influence was a hairstyle book dedicated to braids I got when around 8 that among other models featured a girl just like that! I’m unable to find a pic of the book cover online, it was around 1996 after all.

At the age of 11 (that’s 1999!) I had two transformative experiences on the same day: trying nail polish and a temporary coloring shampoo in red. I abandoned the nail polish in 2004 after realizing that it took too much effort to do it well, but the red dye stayed and became permanent. I wish I got an euro every time people assume this is my natural hair color or ask which my ‘real’ hair color is. For a while I quipped back that red was the real one while another – let’s be polite and call it ash blonde – is the natural one.

Since then the only time I’ve seen my natural hair color was after I shaved my head in June 2008. These are the steps I went through from full locks to running back to henna as soon as my hair was long enough, i.e. January 2009. The gray ‘pixie’ (it was never a proper haircut, they just grew back like this) was so much fun for both me and my mom – we finally got to see and document that natural color:





I switched to henna sometime in my late teens, and I haven’t looked back. I started with henna from a Hare Krishna store in Riga. Lucky for me, it was a decent product, because at that point I could’ve easily fallen for whatever shit. I did no previous research, put it right over my chemical dye (thing nobody in the dyeing world approves of, because there is no guarantee of the result), and my mother never asked if putting unknown powders into my head was a good idea. She actually helped me with it, convinced that I was too sloppy about it. We hadn’t heard about black henna and people getting seriously harmed. The worst thing I’ve tried since then was ‘henna’ brought from Egypt as a souvenir that stained my hands pink, and by then I clearly knew that something was off with that product. I don’t remember, though, if I used that pink stuff on my hair. I think I did. I don’t think I ever looked up what my henna was made of. As far as I purchased from a trusted-enough place, and it looked and smelled alright, I didn’t bother.

In Spain I have mostly used the Radhe Shyam henna. They are widely available in health food stores here, have pretty boxes and offer a gradient of colors (a red flag if you are looking for sth ‘authentic’). A random video of my favorite whole-foods-plant-based guru Michael Greger sent me googling in September. The video is rather alarming and could be more precise in describing that the health hazard in ‘henna’ use comes from the additives and therefore the warning that ‘according to FDA guidelines, henna shouldn’t be applied to skin at all’ does not apply to the actual henna, defined as pure lawsonia inermis. So I went looking what my henna contains… pretty sure that nothing too horrible, but curious now. I still can’t believe I hadn’t done it the time I purchased the first package every time I had tried another brand! After so many years of flirting with veganism, you’d think that reading labels should be my number one step in every aspect of life.

The box I had listed as ingredients cassia obovata, lawsonia inermis, and sodium picramate. Assuming that they are listed according to proportion in total volume, turned out that my henna contains mainly not henna but another plant known as ‘blonde henna’ that produces the ‘treatment’ effect of the product and a seemingly inoffensive dye fixer. Both of these make sense as I did try a pure lawsonia inermis powder when my closest health store started to phase out the Radhe Shyam in favor of Khadi (funnily enough, they have now gone off the high horse ‘well, you know we want to carry only organic products’, and sell it again, ha!) And it felt… ineffective! Pretty much as if I hadn’t done anything, at least in comparison with the product I was used to. Now I know that that inefficiency was just natural, the pure henna without the gloss of cassia and without a dye fixer. And cost double, so I went back to the previous brand.

*

If you’re interested, here’s what I do. It is a bit messy and takes time, I still prefer it over the ammonium stink:

1. Preparation for henna dyeing: Mixing it the day before with hot water to a consistency of a puré. For shortish to mid-length hair I use 50g (half package). The only add-ons I’ve experimented with was olive oil, and, no, don’t do that.

2. The weirdly smelling brown-green mud all the way the day after mixing it. I use an old toothbrush for the hairline and my hands afterwards. This is messy and not for perfectionists. A professional hairdresser would not be happy with my dye job. I just try to cover it all, assuming that the harder-to-get parts won’t dye as well. I tell myself that the effect is a bit more natural this way…

3. Now it has to work its magic for a couple of hours! I put a plastic bag and then a scarf to protect my surroundings. Henna washes out well, but why create work housework? Keep in mind that at least the scarf and the t-shirt will need a wash after this.

4. Then you wash it out and go on with your life! Repeat it when the need strikes. I have many layer of it already and the contrast is not striking when the roots are visible. If you want to be diligent it, about once a month is what you have to plan for. It washes vaguely orange first few times and stains linen. Again, nothing in comparison with the synthetic dyes. And the smell also lingers, especially when washing or sweating. I’m now used to it and don’t care, but there are people who find the experience – between the muddy too much.

*

My recent conflict about dyeing is between looking to reduce even more the everyday hassle vs. my redhead identity. It is partly cultural, though. I have somehow accepted – thank you Latvian media and so many women around me – that that ash blonde base is very boring and inexpressive. I’d even dare to say that it is a rite of passage in average Latvian girl’s life (at least it felt so around 2005) to chose your color: varying shades of blonde are the most popular, then the dramatic ones opt for black or red, or being happy (or too busy doing something else) with what you’ve got. After seeing my dye fade and my roots appear for a couple of months at the end of 2018, I went back to my green powder. It felt very bright this time… So my current plan is to tone it down a bit shade-wise but keep up with the henna routine. Fun fact? I have no idea if I have gray hairs. A fully white head could be appealing too.

What are your hair dyeing adventures? Do you live it – be it dyed or natural – as a part of your identity?

Body positivity, the average user’s guide

This is a story about a never-ending road towards body positivity (including fat positivity but not only that) in a world where we are all damaged goods when it comes to our own bodies, a brainwashed civilization unable to appreciate everything our bodies do for us. I’ll do my best not to relive my traumas again in this post, I’m still busy healing them. Throughout this post I’m talking about a very mild case of body dismorphia and societal pressures felt while inhabiting still a very – in the statistical sense – ‘normal’ body, I am aware that life at other configurations of body shape, color, ability, sexual identity among other traits are very different, and I eagerly read when other people share their body stories but they are not mine to re-imagine and retell. Here I will try to capture what has let me be so much more happy with my body now than in any other moment since I gained aesthetic consciousness of it at around 8 or so.

Odessa 1995, I was the bubba on the left just having a really good time and pretty oblivious to bodies.

And even more absurd is the fact that, despite not having any experience of being properly fat, I have so much trauma around this shit. I have experienced very little direct body shaming, but I did the rest of the job myself with a little help from the popculture, thank you very much. I was prone to adolescent idiocy moments like observing that ‘my tights wobble in shorts’ and then taking around 15 years to wear short again, Barcelona summer made me. But now adolescence is over, and either (a) at least in my circles, Spaniards are less judgemental than Latvians, (b) my social circles are better selected now than 15 years ago, or (c) I’m getting immune to this crap. So I’m ready to impart advice:

1. Become an engineer, see function!

You might have been looking for the wrong shapes all along. Somebody told us that small, tall, young and willowy was where it’s at and here we are. But think about evolution! Think about primates! Think about what bodies are for! Your genes are probably a couple of hundreds (if not thousands) years off in their expression, but they are doing what they can. Try to see your body in connection with your ancestors, that’s the inheritance, the family trunk full of treasures that made sense way back. I’ve had to admit that my body is not made for gender bending, androgynous play and being willowy. It’s the opposite, just what my fertile peasant grand-grandmothers needed to live, work, and, yes, marry well and survive all those pregnancies. Wide back and shoulders to carry water from the well, firewood from the forest, and potatoes from the field. Strong tights and calves to keep walking all day long from one farm errand to another. Wide feet to keep my bare feet grounded in places that even now don’t have asphalt. A round belly to grow babies in and downward looking breasts to feed them. Such waste to have it all on me, from an evolutionary point of view, as the use is pretty limited, but that’s my trunk. Here, my best selfie ever (2016):

2. Become a historian, do your research!

Women’s bodies also have fashions, get to know those. The click-bait places are full of ‘the ideal woman through ages’ videos and there is an abundance of more serious materials too. For an extra level, try to explain the trends, i.e. fat when most people were starving, pale skin when only the leisurely classes didn’t spend the day outside followed by appreciation of tan when people started to spend most of their time in factories and offices, or the abundant meatiness of the 1950’s sex symbols following the Great Depression and WWII. And these trends move fast: I’ve seen supermodels, heroin chic, and Kardashian butt being all the rage since I am alive and that hasn’t been so many years. Assume that this – as bell-bottoms, platform shoes or millennial pink – will also pass. Maybe Rubens will have a revival and cellulite will be the next big thing! A girl can dream.

Although taking into account that only the scarce commodity can be truly valued, I’d suggest not giving a fuck as a more sustainable and reality-based alternative in comparison for waiting for the cellulite trend.

3. Become an art historian, de-earth women who chose to become icons instead of becoming pretty!

There are stories of rebellion and ‘fuck pretty’ for all tastes, including those that wanted to be part of the game and learnt that extravagant also works (hello, Diana Vreeland) and those that knew that she needed more than being recognized for her looks (hello, young Georgia O’Keeffe), because striking stays when the youthful beauty is gone. Frida Kahlo is a bit overused for coasters and pins by now, but always a good place to start. You have Wikipedia for days: Nina Simone, Iris Apfel, Virginia Woolf, Patti Smith, Joan Baez, Barbra Streisand, Elizabeth I, etc. etc. And for some gore and to remember that for a long time religion was the only reasonable alternative to the three Ks of domesticity, you have the stories of Joan of Arc, Agatha of Sicily, Hildegard of Bingen and Teresa of Ávila (those two actually succeeded at the whole thing) to begin with. And I’m sure you have a handful of local examples to add to this list, let me know in the comments!

4. Become a fly on the wall. Observe!

Relax! Look at real people instead of billboards. A ride in public transit, especially in a day of ‘wear shorts or die’ will do much more for your body confidence than a fashion magazine. The same goes for a day at the beach or gym showers. And I don’t mean it in a ‘you are so much better than’ way. Nope, it’s just bodies going places, and cellulite or upper arm flap is completely irrelevant Try to practice observing bodies without judging them: the shapes, the sizes, the little things nobody has had time for. Among strangers or friends, I love to notice half-shaven legs, undone nail polish, blood stains that never came out, droopy shoulders, early wrinkles, and all the rolls, rolls, rolls. As The Killers asked ten years ago, ‘Are we human or are we dancer?’

5. Use your body! Preferably, naked.

There is a great piece about this point exactly in Caitlin Moran‘s new book ‘How to be Famous’ (see the quote above). It almost boils down to the old cliché of nobody having a low self esteem at the moment of orgasm, but in a classier and more ample way. If you are truly present while using your body – in sports, traffic, crafts, dancing, sex – you are not likely to be thinking about it. Again, function trumps aesthetic, or at least we seem to lack bandwidth to process both at the same time. If you treat your body as tool for self expression (and life in general), the criteria are very different than if the body is an aesthetic commodity. In this sedentary world moving the body might require an effort, but only in movement it shows its magic.

The note about nakedness is not random, though. As most bodies we see are printed or digital, they are far removed from actual bodily experiences – they are plastic or cardboard, heavily airbrushed and sanitized. They don’t sweat, bleed or have random hairs sprouting out of unsuspected places. So hanging around – at least – with your own naked body creates counter-images of living, breathing, warm bodies being the norm. We have to hack our brain back to recognizing the true us as the baseline, not some painted lady on the billboard.

Oh, and – when taking a break among all that movement – take all the selfies in the world! I’d say that the greatest benefit of digital photography has been giving the tools of instant and infinite self-portrait to the people. Selfies have helped us all to discover that, while some are more photogenic than others, the great majority of us have a couple of great angles in the right light, and that great part of the airbrushed commercial photos we see around are due to – after make-up, styling and before photoshopping – about taking enough pictures until some came out nice. Of course it’s narcissistic, but in a world which puts us down for not being pretty enough while bombarding us with images of supposed perfection of others, knowing that the magic of one stunning photo is usually having taken 200 of them is power. I cling to the idea that my first digital camera did almost as much for me as my first pop feminist books did. If I was able to make ‘pretty’ out of myself, I didn’t rely on anybody else to do it. Ha, and be careful about putting naked pictures on the internets. Here, have some of mine instead (Berlin 2008):

6. Experiment with the limits of patriarchy in beauty.

Play a little truth or dare with yourself and body/beauty standards. First of all, there is already probably a bunch of supposedly ‘essential’ beauty routines you are not doing. How do I know? Because there are so many of them that nobody could possibly have time for them all! Make a list of every Cosmopolitan advice you are not following: painting the toenails? daily face/body/hair masks? curling your eyelashes? waxing your forearms? permanent make-up? permanent hair removal? hair transplants? magical pills for better skin? hockey mask with pink lights for acne treatment (that exists, btw)? If you do any of these or any else, that’s fine. My point is that the options and their combinations greatly exceeds our numbers.

So keeping in mind that there is no universal beauty list beyond the very basics of some soap and maybe cleaning under your nails, you get to decide and shake it up a bit. My minimalist-bias go towards reducing instead of adding, so I suggest looking at your routines and asking ‘do I enjoy this?’, ‘what does it do for me?’ and ‘why am I doing this?’. Allow for trial and error, it’s an experiment.

My personal recent ‘transgressions’ include: the above-mentioned short wearing (yay); trying to stop using a lip balm (nay, doesn’t work for me); replacing facial cream with almond oil (yay); and giving up yoga classes because those didn’t spark joy anymore – I was more attached to wanting to be the person who does yoga than actually enjoying the practice.

Older and established choices include: wearing my nails short and unpainted; wearing only flat shoes; not wearing trousers; getting a haircut only once a year; doing a diy hair dye with henna once a month; having a wax every seven weeks; not wearing make-up… Each of these was a process of ‘let me see how can I twist this’. For example, I tried not removing body hair at all just to realize that I am not comfortable living like that, unfortunately. So a compromise I’ve devised is to allow for a lot of time between waxes so that I actually get to live with some hair before they are stripped off again. While politically I would be on the side of ‘if it gets too bushy, you can trim’, I played with the external standards to find out where my current limits are. Remember that all that shit is arbitrary and relax! The same goes for experimental dressing and letting go of ‘no horizontal stripes’ type of prejudice – check and re-check that your limits are truly yours. And have fun with glitter and curling iron meanwhile!

7. Practice compassion for those in the first line of combat.

Some people’s value – measured in income – actually depend on their looks. People get dragged through the yellow press, shamed, and contractually obliged to lose or gain weight, hair, tan, etc. Imagine the exhaustion! Having come of age when Britney Spears was a thing and then not again when she couldn’t maintain the appearances, having read about Amanda Palmer switching to crowd funding and self editing because of record label considering her fat, Pink being dragged through media because of the same shit, Jennifer Lawrence being a ‘fat actress’ for the contemporary Hollywood, you know what? Thank goodness my life is not like that.

No wonder there is a great demand for celebrity ‘stolen’ swimsuit photos – we all crave a confirmation that they are ‘wrong’ too. The chastising ‘how dares she not to be airbrushed!’ remarks and evil indulgence in those photos is the only passive aggressive ‘revenge’ that people have when reminded that we are being tricked all along. Obviously, that doesn’t change anything for anybody: the celebrities keep being tightly controlled by the masses willing to believe in their perfection and that 10 sit-ups a day will give the same for everybody who persists.

And when you think that people talking up about this stuff is celebrities doing alright, remember all those that just have to swallow the insults while doing the jobs where one *has* to be pretty, feminine, helpful, and not threatening: flight attendants, secretaries, waitresses… Or those arts/sports where eating disorders and communal hard-core body policing seems to come with the discipline. Yuck!

8. Carefully select food for your brain.

This one consists of two parts, one being media and other the everyday interactions. Fill your feeds with truly fat people. Knowing is not enough, our brains need to see things again and again to file them under ‘typical’, and, taking into account how many idealized and airbrushed bodies you have seen by now (because all the corporate dollars have been channeled into making sure you see all those), we need *a lot* of other pictures to counteract that. Depending on the stage of healing you are at, side effects might include: (a) de-stigmatizing the word ‘fat’ and reminding you that it is just a noun or adjective, not a crushing insult unless we make it so, (b) realizing that the fantasy world of ‘I’ll get thin / get a boob job / nose job / six pack and then I’ll be…’ doesn’t work that way, except for very few cases, (c) discovering the variety contained by the plus size and body positivity universe, especially the tensions around body shapes of most plus size models and plus size fashion representing mostly a slightly overweight, tall, long-legged, hourglass figure, (d) confirm that confidence and believing it is the key to sexiness (and all other -nesses, too), if that’s what you are going for. And try to cut out the toxic crap: hours on tumblr will do you much good while beauty pageants, talk shows that body-police, mainstream series, TV advertisement, and women’s magazines will put new images we are already sick of in your head.

9. Help liberate others’ brain (at least don’t add crap to it).

OK, so once you have have your power place built up on the internets (I have a tumblr partially dedicated to this and a Pinterest board to go back to when the day is dark) and your brain is high on #fatgirlsdoingthings, now your job as the secret avenger of the body shamers begin. All that toxic talk, all that damage we inflict on ourselves and others. It takes so little, only a subtle eye roll or a nuance in tone in ‘oh, that’s what you are wearing?!’ It is about control, fitting in, guilt, and equaling fat with a character flaw, and making sure everybody knows they are not photoshop perfect. Self-depreciation is the norm, kind of pre-emptive strike at ourselves.

I’ve adopted a strategy to be very blasé when anybody tries to discuss my body, especially when people do the ‘oh, you so thin today!’ bullshit. I won’t allow anybody to police my fat or feet or anything else I’m happily doing – faking incomprehension is my favorite way of challenging that, makes assholes name *their* issues – or try to buy me over with sweet talk. Even when people clearly mean the best, I try to softly switch those remarks towards them, because commenting on others people’s bodies without a good reason (a medical emergency, for example) is never about other people. It hurts me profoundly to think about all the direct attacks people get if they are… well, not even, as Clarissa Pinkola Estés would put it, in the wrong nest, just in a normal family where body policing is what people do, mostly among females and mostly with the best intentions of wishing acceptance and desirability upon their daughters and granddaughters, transferring the survival strategies they have learnt.

And from that follows the self-depreciation stuff you’ll have to deal with, especially as the above-mentioned ‘compliments’ tend to have the following structure of ‘Oh, you so x, me so not x’ that tries to trick you into responding with at least ‘Of course you’re x, we are all amazing here!’ and preferably, as body-confidence is frowned upon, one-upping into a self-hating tirade along the lines of ‘Naah, me the fattest ugliest troll ever, you the pretty princess’. And that spiral can go on – and downwards! – for years… I tend to respond with something between ‘babe, quit the bullshit’ and ‘stop talking shit about my friends, be nice to your body, after all the hard work it does for you’. Try to figure out if the person is just engaging in a familiar ritual, a game you just don’t want to play anymore, or is this an occasion to sit down and truly talk about it. You will meet plenty of people who are deaf to such conversation, so accept that your capacity to change them stops at making it clear that you are out of the body shaming game, planting the little seed of doubt, and reassuring that you will be there if they ever want to talk about it.

And for people raising little people, may the force be with you, because, despite all your body positivity work, feminist pedagogy, and unconditional love, they are bound to bring home all the toxic crap, and it will be your job to hold their hand and explain what patriarchy and unattainable beauty standards are about. This stuff is powerful with thousands of years of history and all the current big money behind, so, please join the resistance! We really need you.

*

Obviously, there are better days and ones when the fat demons come back, but at least now we have an argument instead of a dismissive monologue. I have my safe places: that Pinterest board, the swimming pool, an intimate lube, and just plain spite of ‘nope, I refuse to be ordered around by stupid ideas, I have a great and functional body and I shall cherish it’.

How do you fight against the shame monsters, be they human or ghosts in your head? Do you have key songs, playlists, movies, books, fridge magnets with inspirational quotes? What do you tell yourself to get over the body shaming moments? And what do you say to others trying to do that to you?

Journey on Hobbit feet

Comfort is key. Comfort is key. Clothing is here to make our lives easier. Have I told you that comfort is key? Sometimes I think that the feminist interpetation of (most) female footwear as conscious attempt of the patriarchy to keep us down is not just a hyperbole. If you need a visual argument for this, google “high heels x ray”. It shall do the trick.

The Tolkien reference in the title stems from the fact that my adult footwear choices have been restricted by my feet. They are wide, robust and keep me grounded. Also, their length by width do not fit most commercial footwear brands: the sizes that fit the width leave room for at least a finger or two at length.

This has served as more of an excuse than reason for suffering so far. I never really learned to walk on heels, so I gravitate towards more reasonable footwear anyways. Yet there have been some mistakes throughout the years. Espically painful was admitting to myself that Melissa stuff just is not made for my feet (plastic does not stretch, d-oh!) and lifestyle (their flats are not made for walking; believe me, I’ve tried). Here, have a laugh at my younger self and my poor tortured feet:

Sneakers have been a mainstay on my footwear shelf. Chuck Taylors All Star – real and fake – obsession was followed by lots of fast fashion ballerinas that wore out in few months. Summer 2014 was the lowest point of shoe desperation of wishing for better but being out of ideas. So my mom took me (a 26-year old) to Crocs shop in Riga and bought me 3 pairs. Only one of them turned out to be a real winner, but at least the existential dread of having only shoes that hurt in one way or another was eliminated.

An authentic relief came with my first pair of Veja, and I’ve been riding into the sunset ever since. But here are some past favorites:

Currently I’m the most happy with my footwear options I’ve been in a long time. I have eight pairs of outdoor shoes – five in Barcelona and three in Riga – and using ninth, the white Crocs pumps, as slippers at home. The great majority of them fit very well, except for those Crocs (that’s why they have been retired from taking long walks) and my first Arcopedico pair (next one I’ll get will be a 38 instead of 39 because, contrary to what the salesperson claimed, they do stretch). That’s the advantage of finding few brands that work for you: you resonate with the aesthetics, research the supply chain and production conditions, trust the quality, and know your size. That’s a quadruple win, especially for someone with non-standard feet.

Now the only thing I need for a dream-come-true shoe capsule is a pair of vegan footbed sandals, something like this but preferably with a toe post and attached to the ankle.

My minimalist well-being routine

Sometimes it seems easier to list all the things I’ve stopped using (make up, nail polish, hair conditioner, coffee, black tea, thongs, heels, milk chocolate), so this is an alternative exercise of counting all that remains.

Keep in mind that this is just about me and my advice for this type of subtraction is to be inspired konmari style and ask if a routine/product brings joy. If it does, keep it! If it doesn’t, replace it with something that sparks joy.

*

Basics

Food: I eat vegan (leaning towards whole foods plant based) at home, with lots of fiber and very little processed sugars. Ovo-lacto things happen at social situations. I drink little alcohol, consume no tobacco and no caffeine (only a very occasional green tea if I’m feeling adventurous). Herbal teas is my jam.

Sleep: Sleeping is one of my all time favourite activities. My current feel-good requirement is 9h of zzz. Yes, nine hours of sleep every night. I know it’s a luxury and I treat it as such. I’ve read somewhere that Einstein needed 10h. That’s highly reassuring.

Movement: My current routine is cycling to work and back (~7km a day, half of that uphill), yoga at home with doyogawithme.com videos, taking all the possible stairs (I work on the 6th floor) and walking, walking, walking… In my movement wish list for future are more ping pong (there are public tables in Barcelona and I have a ping pong set, so convincing my potential ping pong partners is the only initiative needed) and some water activity, either finally learning to  swim properly or water aerobics if I can tolerate all the chlorine.

*

Potions, tools, products and services.

Face: Coconut oil. A mix of shea butter and coconut oil for winter.

A great success of 2017 so far is weening myself off the chapstick addiction. However, if you are looking for one, Epically Epic is the way to go. Her stuff is breathtakingly good!

The same goes for facial creams. I’m not using any (coconut oil ftw!), but the only one I’d go back to is Lavera Basis Sensitiv. It has the perfect texture and smells the way I imagine the magical cream of Azazello smelled in Master and Margarita.

*

Body: B12 supplement (If you are vegan, start taking this! Seriously). Multivitamin supplement.

Shampoo (no b*shit, purchased in bulk here), deodorant (vegan, no aluminum), coconut oil, sunscreen, tea tree oil for mosquito bites and zits, lavender oil mixed with water for refreshing and calming effect,  geranium oil because they don’t carry rose oil at Safareig, tweezers, bamboo q-tips. And I get all the unwanted hair removed with hot wax every 6 weeks.

Hair: Shampoo (serves as body wash too), henna dye, Kent (very non vegan) hair brush, wooden comb, assorted bobby pins and pony tail holders, mostly found on the street. For last few years, I’ve been getting a haircut once a year. There has been talk of Liisa trimming the ends for Julie and me, though, so this might change.

Nails: Nail clippers, nail file. My liberation from nail polish and long nails came really early. I removed the polish and cut my nails short when going for a long school trip in spring 2004. Never looked back to the aspiration of *perfect manicure*.

Oops. Found a proof in the archives that an occasional nail polish was going on still in early 2006

*

Sexual and repoductive wellbeing: pill, fleurcup, vaginal probiotics (as my gynecologist says “Give your vagina a treat once in a while!”), lube + breathable and comfy underwear from Luva Huva and SiiL! And a visit to a gynecologist once a year.

Dental care: tooth paste (vegan and with fluoride, brand depends), Humble Brush tooth brush (I prefer extremely soft brushes, so I use the children’s brush), floss, and night guard because I grind my teeth. I visit my dentist and dental hygienist twice a year.

Feet: Foot file, nail clippers, lavender oil mixed with water to refresh and calm  + very comfy shoes.

Hands: Hand soap, desinfectant gel for going out and travel.

Vision: glasses, sunglasses, mini screwdriver for the glasses.

+ a stash of pills, mostly pain killers and fever reducers, and band-aids.