Monday, October 31, 2016

The Cute Girl at the Gym

How many of us feel, on a normal day, that we look good? How many of us feel like we'll pass but get no high marks? How many of us think we look like we rolled out of bed at 2 a.m. with one eye sealed shut by sleepy goo and the other one wide open with the pupil dilated for no good reason all day? If you're like most women, you fall in the middle. You feel okay in what you're wearing. Your hair is fine. Your make up, if you chose to wear make up at all, doesn't look like it was done by a three-year-old so, yay! Overall win for you! What about when you go to the gym? Yeah...totally different story.

Every time I go, I look at myself in those huge stupid mirrors on the other side of the room and hear this little voice in my head that says I don't belong there. Because, you know, the gym is for skinny beautiful people who really just go because they're narcissistic and like to watch their muscles flex in those evil mirrors and make kissy faces at their own reflections. Before you tell me I'm wrong, I'll beat you to it by saying I know that is not the case. Always.

I went to the gym tonight for the first time since getting my heart monitor on three weeks ago, and boy did my body feel it. I was sweating, my round, bean shaped face was red, I was panting like Tom Hiddleston had just come in the room, I had a bandana on my head to cover my sweat-drenched hair that makes me look even more balding than I really am. I mean...messy, gross, and not feeling all too great about myself. But I was there. I kept telling myself that. I was there, and that mattered.

And then I saw her.

Here I am, this four-foot-eleven-inch tomato doubled over on a glutes machine as I try to push and extend, the wheezing coming out of my mouth reminiscent of a chain smoker on her death bed, and this petite little blonde girl walks over near my station. She's got the classic all black ensemble of skin tight yoga pants and black sports tank. Her hair (which was totally dyed, I'm sure) was curled in that way some women can do, making it look effortless and natural even though it would take me at least five hours to get it done right and then it would fall pin straight five minutes later. Her make up was done beautifully and she had ruby red lips that glittered when the unnaturally bright lights above her caught the top coat of gloss she'd applied at one point.

I hate you, was the first thought that ran through my mind, subsequently and immediately followed by, I hate myself. For once, I was able to get my thoughts out of that dark place fairly quickly and direct them to a more healthy place: back on the girl. What? It was healthier for me at the moment. I scowled at her with my inner Gremlin, thinking, Really? You have to come here looking like that when the rest of us feel like gross piles of slime? I actually stewed in my irritation for the rest of the thirty minute circuit I was on, watching every male head turn in her direction when she passed them, blissfully unaware. It wasn't until I was driving home that grace tried to edge its way into my heart.

Once upon a time, I had a friend who could not do anything menial without looking cute. I mean, cute outfit, cute hair, full on makeup. She literally could not leave her apartment if these things were not in place, and it was because she had so little confidence in herself. I was one of the lucky few to see her without all her trappings (pun fully intended) and got to see how vulnerable, uncertain, and uncomfortable she was in her own skin. When she was all done up, even to go do laundry, she was a totally different person. She was sure of herself, funny, easy-going. Remembering this friend made me wonder if this cute Barbie-esque girl at the gym was like that. My friend was, and still is, gorgeous. This girl was gorgeous. But I don't know her struggles. Maybe she does have issues with confidence, maybe she doesn't. Either way, I had no right to assume the things I did about her, and I should not have compared myself to her. I shouldn't compare myself to anyone, because no one else is me, and no one else is walking my path.

As annoyed as I was by her presence, I'm actually really glad I saw her today. Not only will she be something of an inspiration for me to keep going to the gym and working hard, but she served as a much needed reminder that what we see on the outside is not always what is going on in the inside. I think that's a reminder we could all use from time to time.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

An Explanation For My Angst

Before I begin this painfully raw blog entry, I feel like I need to throw out a disclaimer. Nothing I say here is directed at anyone in particular. My heartache is my own and is not caused by anyone. If you read this and think, "I wonder if she's talking about me," I'm not. In fact, if you read this and think that, then I didn't write this entry very well because I don't want anyone to take anything here personally. That being said, I think it's time I explained my angst from the past few days...

Some years ago, a very wise woman taught me an important lesson that I will never, ever forget. She told me that Satan really amps up his personal attack game when God is doing or is about to do something incredible in your - my - life. That singular thought has been my saving grace throughout the years. If it felt like everything was going wrong, it was because God was on the move. That was exciting, even in the middle of the turmoil. Well, sometime over the past five or six days, I lost that. I was hit with one thing after another that hurt, that depressed me, that beat me down enough for me to lose that. There were times this week that I cried out to God in anger and desperation. Never once did I remember that hope I had always clung to, the promise of things to come, until today.

I've always been told I was the type of person people feel comfortable just word vomiting to. Though I still scratch my head about that, I don't mind it. In fact, I love that people trust me and feel comfortable enough to do that. I'm a good secret keeper, I guess, and I don't often interject with my own stuff. I think that's why I often forget that I need people I can do that with myself. Today I got the opportunity to just get it all out, and get some better perspective.

For anyone that's known me for very long, knowing I have a congenital heart defect is no surprise. For those that don't know, I have a murmur, a leaky valve, weird palpitations, and a pulmonary aneurysm. Lately, my heart has been doing this weird thing where it will beat perfectly fine, then it feels like a car engine trying to turn over with no success. That's the best way I can explain it. It's not racing, it's not slow, it's just beating hard. And then it skips beats. It's uncomfortable, and it's pretty darn frightening at times. I went to the ER for it at the end of July...and it led to this whole sequence of events that, quite frankly, just makes me angry. Long story short, I can't see my cardiologist until October. It's been suggested to me by a few people that I look for anew doctor but I've decided to wait until after this appointment to see how it goes. It took me three tries to get an appointment with him because of one person in the office telling me twice that she would set things up and call me back, and never did. By the time the appointment was set up - three weeks later - I was feeling frustrated, forgotten, and not very important.

Another thing I have never hidden from anyone is my desperate want to be a mother. I confessed to a close friend this week that there is honestly not a day that goes by when I don't think about it on some level. Some days are easier to deal with than others, and this week, after certain events transpired with not only friends, but things I read in the news...this longing was not so easy to deal with. I felt the loss of something I've never even had so greatly, and I grieved deeply. I was angry, questioning why God would give children to some and not to others. I felt overlooked.

The final nail in my pity party coffin came from a Skype call with my editor. Jessica, I'm calling you out by name simply because I can, and because it's easier for me. When your editor says she wants to Skype so you can talk about the chapter face to face rather than in notes and doesn't cultivate a great sense of confidence in the matter. As it turned out, the anxiety that was growing within me while I was at the gym was justified. Jess and I talked, and it was not good news. In fact, it was pretty horrible news. Apparently my main plot for this third book in my series could pretty much have been ripped from another book/movie I had never even seen before. I was crushed to say the least. Months of hard work, of poor sleep because my brain wouldn't turn off, of research and planning...all of it was now out the window. I was going to have to start back at square one. I found the movie online and watched it, thinking after the first twenty or so minutes, it wasn't really that bad. Then the movie progressed and I could not believe the similarities. How in the world could this movie and my book be so similar when I hadn't even seen it? That was it. I was done. No new book for the faire in May. I would have to tell the person working on my cover that all his work has been for nothing. I would have to disappoint people who were counting on me having my third book for sale next year. I felt...a lot of things.

This morning I got to get all of this out with someone I love and trust, and she reminded me that God is always working behind the scenes and pointed my attention back to Him. In talking to her, admitted that this book had been so hard to write at times. There were moments I was literally in tears because I was constantly feeling like it wasn't as good, it wasn't as dynamic, it wasn't BIG enough. I know now that my feelings were right. Jess told me point blank that she feels book 2 is better, and is there any wonder? Book 2 came so easily to me! There was never the struggle I had with this one. Then I also realized that the chapters Jess loves the most of book 3 so far are the ones that came so easily. Of course the rest of it is crap. I was trying too hard.  I was trying to do it on my own, rather than letting God take the lead as I had last time.

So now I'm feeling sort of...disillusioned, I guess. I needed the reminder to trust God this morning, and that it's okay to be upset, and to question, and even to rage because God is a big God - He can handle it. I just can't let myself wallow in it. Jess is confident we can fix this, and I trust her without question. If she thinks there's still a story here, even if it needs to be tweaked, I don't doubt her. In fact, I'm so thankful she told me, no matter how uncomfortable it made her to do it and how many tears I shed hearing it. Words cannot express how grateful I am for her honesty, even when it's painful. My series would not be what it is and what it will be without her hand in it.So I have a tentative hope that this will not all go down in flames. Half, maybe, but not all, and that's something.

As for the other things...y'all, I don't even know. It's going to be a fight every day to trust God knows what He's doing. But I'm going to keep fighting, and I appreciate the people in my life who go to battle for me when I can't do it myself. You are truly invaluable.

So there you have it, an explanation for my angst. Now that I've gotten it all out, I think it's time for me to go back to work and get this book back on track.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Time to Get Real

I think it's been about fifteen minutes now that I have started and restarted this blog entry. Every beginning I come up with just doesn't work, and I end up deleting everything I've written. I want the first few sentences to hook my reader, as all bloggers do, but I think this one is just going to be raw and honest, and may not be the most well written or witty. There's an issue that needs addressing, and I've been trying to figure out the best way to do it. So I guess I'll give it a try.

A lot of non-believers think Christians are all cookie cutter copies of one another. We all act, think, speak, and carry ourselves the same, as well as have the exact same beliefs on every single subject in the history of everything. Honestly, I know people who think this. It frightens me mostly because I have seen many people who say they are Christ followers, but what they worship most are things of this earth and not of Heaven. I digress, though. This entry isn't about Christianity in a generic sense. It's about something much more personal.

I was blessed with the opportunity to go to an event this past Saturday where I could sell and sign my books. I've done this twice before at the New Hampshire Renaissance Faire, as well as at a local bookstore. Now, being perfectly honest, the NHRF feels like home to me now. I don't know if any other signing event will top it because they gave me my first shot and welcomed me back with open arms this year. I've even had people threaten me if I didn't return next year with at least one new book. It's my Ren family and I love it. It was through this faire that I met Jeremy Oneail. He approached me this May at my booth and said he was going to be hosting several wizarding (read Harry Potter) events in the coming months and thought I would be a perfect fit for a vendor. I took his info and told him I'd think about it. My gut reaction was "no," but I told him I would think about it, and I was going to do just that. I was also going to pray about it because that is what I do. I try not to make any big decisions like that without talking to God about it first...try being the operative word. I am not a perfect Christian by any stretch of the imagination.

This first event would be a market day, something set up like Diagon Alley in Harry Potter where people would get to come in, shop, see some shows, drink butterbeer, and meet some of the teachers for the school days in the fall. I was hesitant because of the stigma, quiet honestly, one that was drilled into me from a very early age. This kind of stuff, even if it's fiction, is not okay for a Christian. But, reminded a small voice in my head, I'd read all the books and seen all the movies. God gifted me with a very sensitive spirit when it comes to discernment. I know almost immediately when someone or something is not okay for me or my walk. I get this icky, uncomfortable feeling that tells me something is toxic, and, if I'm smart, I walk away. Harry Potter was never something that made me feel that way. So I prayed about it and received an answer almost right away, a knowledge that this was something I should do. I committed to the three days and looked forward to the new venue.

I have to tell you, it was crazy! The venue itself was perfect for the atmosphere. If you've ever been to the Higgins Armory in Mass, you'll know how cool it looks inside. If you haven't, look up pictures on Google. It's just a perfect location. I ended up selling 23 books which, again, being honest, was nowhere near what I had wanted or expected to sell. However, Saturday night I learned from many people posting on the event page that there were numerous cases of people wanting to stop at different vendors but they simply couldn't because it was so over-crowded. The total number of people who came through the doors that day was over 1,900, and no one was prepared for that kind of traffic. Keep in mind, this was the first year this event has been held, so no one really knew what to expect. To be over capacity for the building and still have a line of over 100 people out the door waiting to get in? Pretty sure no one planned for that. As the day went on and I sold such a small amount of books to such an overwhelmingly large crowd, I expected to be disappointed. Yet with each book or set of books I sold, I felt the Holy Spirit telling me to pray. I don't know that I have ever prayed for strangers so fervently before. As I packed everything up at the end of the day, I actually felt at peace. I knew those who would read the books were the people that needed the content within the most.

At one point during the day I had an older woman approach my table. She looked my books over, then eyed the Celtic cross I had next to Heritage. "Are these Christian?" she asked, a mixture of confusion and disgust on her face. Cheerful, I replied, "Yes they are." She looked at me with her brows drawn together. "So you talk about Jesus in these books?" I nodded, the smile never leaving my face. "I do indeed. The names are changed to fit in with the whole fantasy element, but God and Jesus are in there. The story of the crucifixion and salvation are laid out pretty plainly in the first book, and scripture is and will be woven throughout the rest of the series." She didn't say anything for a moment, but glanced over the covers of my books one more time. Then, still confused, she asked, "I thought your people didn't like Harry Potter."

It was God's grace that kept me from laughing, y'all. Your people. My first thought was, "Lord, help me if I am ever chosen to represent my people." And then it hit me. That's exactly what I was doing. I nodded again, my smile slipping just a bit because I had two people tell me just the day before that they were disappointed in me for even considering doing an event like this. "This sort of genre is very polarizing for Christians. They either think it's bad and should be avoided at all costs, or they recognize it as fiction and can separate the fact from reality with it. I know Harry Potter is not teaching children how to be a real witch or a real wizard. It's fiction, fantasy...just like my own books." She paused with one more glance at my books, then gave me a small, awkward smile and said, "Well, I don't know if your books are any good, but if they are, good luck," before moving on.

That conversation was the reality check I needed. How many of those 1,900+ people walking through those doors knew Jesus? How many of them were even open to hearing about Him? How many of them, in this world that has become so full media that boasts of sex, violence, and graphic language, would even get a taste of Christ if it wasn't in an engaging story? I may have disappointed some people by going to this event - heck, I found out this weekend that I have family disappointed in me for writing fantasy to begin with; the devil is a dragon in the bible, you know - but I know God placed me there on purpose.

Friday was not a good day for me. Besides having the lack of support for my doing this event and it being shown so publicly, I have been struggling with severe depression and self-worth when it comes to my writing. I sat in my bedroom, crying much of the afternoon, questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. Each time I asked (Thank you, Lord, for never losing patience with me.) I felt that cherished peace come over me that told me my path was the one I was supposed to take. Though friends and loved ones sometimes think they are correct and that their paths should be my own, I am on the one He wants me on, and He knows I know the second I stray from it.

I know this has been a long entry, and if you've stayed with me to the end, I thank you for having patience with me as well. All of this has been to say that it's okay if someone's walk looks different from your own. You don't know how God is going to use them. If you know their heart truly seeks after God, then you have to trust they are seeking Him still when they go into situations that you might not be comfortable in yourself. Each person is convicted of and by different things in their walk. It's not up to you to condemn them, but to pray for them, to support them, and in private, voice your concern so a dialogue can happen between you and not the rest of the world.

I love the people in m life who care enough about me to address concerns. I need people like that in my life. We all do. Just remember the next time you see something going on with a friend or loved one that worries you or gives you pause, it is biblical to address it with them and it is healthy to talk about it, but don't condemn anyone for making a choice you would not make yourself. Love, support, and pray when all is said and done. It's what we are called to do as brothers and sisters in Christ.

Have a fantastic Wednesday, everyone, and happy reading, no matter what your genre!

Friday, April 15, 2016

Hello, Lovely

Several weeks ago, I walked into church and saw a friend I hadn't seen in weeks. I'll call her Gabby for privacy's sake. Though there were several groups of people between us, I made like a fish swimming upstream and slowly worked my way through the sanctuary until I could get to her. As soon as I was close enough and we made eye contact, I broke into a huge smile, threw my arms around her, and said, "Hello, gorgeous!" In my embrace she gave a light, almost bitter laugh and replied, "I certainly don't feel gorgeous." As we parted, I realized she didn't have any make up on, her hair was carelessly put up, and her clothes were not as "up to standard" as what everyone has come to expect from her, simply because she is always so put together. And yet, she was beautiful.

It's rare these days that I don't greet my female friends with some variation of the way I greeted Gabby that day. "Hey, beautiful." "Hello, lovely." I don't say these words carelessly, but honestly. We live in a world that is so focused on outer beauty that we often forget that age old adage of beauty being more than skin deep. In this wonderful age where we are beginning to accept the fact that a woman doesn't have to be a size two or even a size twelve to be beautiful, we're still not quite yet there when it comes to looking beyond the flesh. Let's face it, men are visual creatures but women are just as visual. We pass someone on the street who is better dressed, taller, has better hair, and we think, "Ugh. Her life must be so perfect. I bet she's so stuck up." Who knows what men think? I don't know that I want to be privy to that information. The point is, we don't see someone like that and think, "I bet she has a generous spirit." We still, whether we mean to or not, on some level, let our eyes determine how we view others.

Don't think for a second that I think I am any different. I know I make snap judgements of others based on what I saw, especially strangers. How fair is that? Without getting to know someone, I think I have them all figured out just by seeing them across the room. That outfit must have cost a fortune; clearly she has money. Look at that piercing; such an attention seeker. Look at how short that skirt is; no standards and no shame.

But what if people did that to me? Now, I'm not a huge fan of this term, but I'll be the first to admit that I have resting bitch face, meaning if I am not smiling or making an active effort to show some kind of emotion on my face, I look ticked. I'm not. Generally, it takes a great deal to get me irritated enough to the point where I actually am angry. I've also been told I look like a lost or abandoned child. So, you know, my go-to faces aren't the best representative of who I am, yet people who don't know me see me and assume I am one way or another. They hear I am on disability and look at me only to see nothing wrong on the surface, which leads to other judgements.

Guys, we have got to stop doing this to each other. And by guys, I mean all of us. We have to stop assuming we know someone just by what we see. You can never know a person's heart by looking at the name brand shoes they're wearing or how well kept they are. I have found in my own life that there are people I have made snap judgements about, thinking, "I will never have anything in common with this person," who have gone on to be some of my closest, dearest friends.

That is what beauty really is. When you see a person and you light up because you know you can trust them, that you can be honest and vulnerable with them...I don't know anything more beautiful than the glow of someone who has someone invested in them and loving them for exactly who they are.

Ladies, if I see you and greet you with this compliment, people know that I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I don't care about your make up, your hair, your clothes...I care about you, and I do think you're beautiful. Love makes everyone beautiful, and there is no greater example of that than the unconditional love we receive from God. If He can look at a walking, talking mess like me and think, "That's my beautiful, precious daughter," the least I can do is try to look at others through His eyes. Who knows? My next life-long friend could be among those I have harshly misjudged because I was too distracted by what was on the outside to see what was on the inside.

That being said, I'm going to style my pink hair, put on my sparkly gray zebra print sweater, and go do some errands.

Friday, April 8, 2016

I See Your Game, Netflix

I'll be the first to admit that I have a bit of a Facebook addiction. It's one that I sometimes hate myself for when I've found myself scrolling through page after page of stupid memes, videos of animals, and pictures of food, quoting Paul when he cries, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do  I do not do, but what I hate I do." It would be a terrifying number to see if I added up all the minutes I wasted on social media instead of spending that time writing. I mean, the people I'm really interested in keeping up with, I talk to regularly as it is. Sounds harsh, but let's be honest with ourselves here. If we were really as "invested" in our Facebook "friends" in real life as we were online, we'd have much better relationships and less surface friendships.

That being said, social media has its merits. I don't have cable and I don't get the paper, so most of my news comes from social media links and articles. In fact it was through one of these articles that I recently found out that Netflix is quietly raising the price of their streaming service. Yes, you read that right. Old users who were "grandfathered" in when the new user price hike was enacted will now be charged $9.99 a month. For more information, check out this article. I don't agree with how secretive this increase has been and how they're going about letting people know about it - or not let them know about it as the case may be - but I don't think the hike itself is anything to shed tears or tear robes about.

Think about it. Netflix is like the fan fic writer we all want to be. It's the guy passing off story suggestions to other people but nothing he's suggesting is original content. Then one day his favorite show gets canceled or it doesn't end the way he wants it to (inset your own scenario here) and he decides to write his own ending and pass it around. He picked up where the story left off, or where it should have left off. The reviews on his stuff are so positive that he decides he's going to go out on a limb and start creating his own original works. Because he's taking on this new, full-time venture, he wants to get paid, and well he should.

Netflix has been creating more and more movies and shows that you can't watch anywhere else, and they are not cheaply made. Things like this cost money, and the demand for these new and exciting serials is growing day by day. Personally, I'd love to see more family related things than a lot of the sex-and-swear-filled stuff they're putting out there, but personal feelings aside, I understand supply and demand. You can't ask for more of something, for better quality of that something, and not expect to have to pay for it. It's really simple economics, especially if I understand it because economics make my head want to explode.

This was not the update I had planned for today, but the article sparked something in me and I wanted to try and help get the world out about the price hike so less people are blindsided. Also, I know I promised vlogs. They are coming, but it's taking a little longer to set up than I'd anticipated. I've got some really fun stuff coming for my channel, though, and I will certainly keep you posted.

So, readers, what are your favorite Netflix creations, and what do you love about them? I am always up for recommendations and love to know what others are into. Leave your comments below!

Friday, April 1, 2016

Why I May Look A Little Different

Goodness, has it really been almost a year since my last update? Well, nine months. Still! What a slacker I have been. Be prepared because that is about to change. I plan to start updating this thing once a week, probably every Friday. Also, every Friday I will be uploading vlogs on my YouTube channel. No link yet because nothing is really up that would interest anyone. Next week, though.

So it's April Fools. This is the worst day of the year. You can't believe anything you hear or see. Except for what you read here today. I can assure you 100% that I am not pulling anything over on you or just writing this for a laugh. This is completely serious. And a bit embarrassing. It's also something I've struggled with in silence for quite a few years now, and I'm tired of carrying the secret. When thinking about having a presence on social media this last month, I decided to opt for total transparency. Yes, some things I will keep to myself because everyone does. What I mean is that I will admit to struggles, to victories, the ideas I'm entertaining, I will share my faith, and I will share the days when my faith is lacking. That kind of transparency. So let's get started.

People who have known me for awhile know that I struggled with severe anxiety and depression in my early/mid twenties. My anxiety was so bad that I was borderline agoraphobic. Even going outside to check the mail made me anxious. I lived with it for awhile, but eventually I realized I needed help and went to a psychiatrist. He put me on something that was relatively new at the time, and experimental for people with my condition. I don't know whether it helped with my issues or not, but I took it daily because it was making me lose weight. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing it was making me lose. Day by day, I would notice more and more hair in my brush and in the shower. I've always had thin, fine hair to begin with, so losing hair was something that was easily noticed. It happened in patches, usually in spots that were easy to cover up with the right hair style. I don't know how long it took me to figure out that it was the meds, but eventually I did an internet search of the side effects of this particular drug. Lo and behold, I found an alarming number of women who had experienced the same thing. Some of them said their hair slowly began growing back once they stopped the meds, others said there hadn't been any regrowth to speak of yet.

Thankfully, most of the patches grew back. My hair was still very fine and very thin, but it worked. No on could tell I had lost so much hair. At least if they did, they never said anything to me about it, for which I am grateful. I was so fragile back then, who knows what that added weight would have done to me.

Now if that was where my story ended, it would be great. However, along with medication taking my hair, genetics are against me. Because the hair loss started so early and the genes handed down to me, the hair at the crown of my head never grew back in right. In 2014 I shaved my head, partially for St. Baldrick's and partially because I hoped shaving my head would help promote new growth. It didn't. Instead, while most of my hair grew out just as fine and thin as before (but healthy for the first time in ages) the crown of my head had gone into early retirement. I've been pretty successful at hiding it, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to do so as the giant bald patch on the top of my head spreads. I noticed just how big it was yesterday when trying to put my hair in a cute style, and lost it. I literally sat in my bathroom and just cried.

I've tried natural and chemical hair loss treatments, all of which only made more hair fall out. I have wigs and I've worn them before, but I can't style them the way I like to style hair. Either way, I feel like less of a woman. Let me tell you, when I was sobbing in my bathroom, Satan used that as a prime opportunity to slip in and remind me about all of my other imperfections and how I'm pretty much going to be alone for the rest of my life because what man could ever want that?

It was a struggle, but I made myself go to Celebrate Recovery last night, and I'm glad I did. It was freeing to share my struggles in such a safe place, to confess how much I was hurting to room full of women who, while probably unable to empathize, could certainly sympathize and offer me support just by listening. I needed that.

This morning, God and I had a talk. Let me tell you a little bit about my relationship with my heavenly Dad. He likes to pick on me. Being who He is, He knows sarcasm is one my love languages, and when we are deep into conversation with one another, he isn't afraid to slip a little snark in. I won't go into my prayer time because it's special and sacred to me, but long story short, I decided to try out the whole wig thing again. But this time it will be different. This time I'm not doing it to hide, to fade into the background and blend in. This time I am doing it with confidence. And a little adventure. I have two brunette wigs, a blonde, and a pink. I'm not going to be afraid to wear any of them, anywhere. Heck, I may even show up to church one day with rainbow colored hair. God doesn't care what color my hair (or my fake hair) is. He cares that I'm there. He cares that my heart is His and it longs to seek after Him and worship Him, and that is why I am there.

I'd really wanted to do this in a vlog because I tend to ramble on when I write, but also because I know this is a secret shame of a lot of women. Hair loss is not just for men, y'all. Not to take away from the pain men go through when losing their hair, but it's worse for a woman. Trust me on this. I don't think I've seen a bald or balding man yet that didn't wear it well when he owned it. It's hard to do that as a woman.

So the next time you see me, if I have short brown hair, long blonde curls, or pink pigtails, don't be surprised. It's still the same me, just with a little less shine up top.

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