Midnight Delirium

Today, as I showered (this is the place where I have the best debates with myself and also the place where I come to my biggest conclusions!) I remembered a time back when I was young. Can you believe I went for around 5 years of my life wearing a jacket or a long sleeve even during the summer?

I did! I’ve always had problems with my arms, they were too weird, too skinny, too long, but so far, I never really paid much attention to any of that, until one day, during my English class, a boy named Apollo (I was around 9 years old, so he was probably younger than me, so don’t come for him ok), who was sitting on the chair next to me and accidentally touched my arm with his, looks down and goes “ew, what are those marks?” And yanks his arms to get them as far away from mine as he could.

I always knew I had those marks, some of them were there ever since I can remember, others were from mosquito bites. And a few were birth marks. Apollo was very white, me, I’m a mix, I know my father’s side of the family comes from Italy, but on my mother’s side, all I know is that my grandpa’s family came from Spain and from my grandmother’s side, my great great grandmother was indigenous, I don’t know where her “husband” was from, but somewhere in Europe, probably.

And that was not the first time I was ashamed of myself, my body, or my skin, but that was the first time someone else expressed pure disgust for it, and that hurt!

So, for years and years after this episode I would wear a jacket or a long sleeve anywhere and everywhere, and if someone ever asked me why, I would say “I can’t loose my style”.

But that’s so crazy, huh? How much things can leave a scar on us, I have now filled my arms with tattoos, and I know that a little bit of the reason behind that was to convince myself not to hide my arms anymore. Instead, teach me to love them, to appreciate them, to be proud of them!

My skin, my color, my marks, are a part of all of us, Brazilians, we are a mixed race, and that is nothing to be ashamed of!

So, I guess that’s all, guys, if you read it until here, I just wanted to say thank you. I’ve aways wanted a place to have those conversations, to share my inner monologues and now, here we are. Thank you for reading, and if you want to talk about anything, hit a girl up!

Makeup

I want to begin this post saying that I am not against make up, I think it is a beautiful form of art, somedays I want to put on makeup and play with different methods and colors. I used to wear makeup EVERY SINGLE DAY, I would wake up 30 minutes before I had to just to put on makeup to go to school. If I had a party on the weekends, it would take me hours in front of the mirror, trying to get my make up perfectly, as I don’t see very well without my glasses on, I would get frustrated a lot, I had to take it all off and start all over again, most times, I would cry.

Whenever my small MAC concealer was about to end, it was chaos, trying to convince my dad to spend the money, and take me to the mall so I could buy a new one! I had foundation for the winter time, and for the summer time, when I was more tan. Mascara, oh, mascara, once, I cut my eye because I was using an old tube that had lumps in it. When I moved to Canada, I learned about color correction, there was a huge drugstore right by my college so I would go there every day to see what was new. When I came back to Brazil, there was so much frustration because I was running out of products, some brands were not available in Brazil, the ones that were, were so expensive, a lot of products contain substances that give me allergies, so I have to try a lot, and to try you have to buy and buying is expensive; Some days I wouldn’t leave the house because I didn’t feel like doing my make up and that’s when it hit me: I had become a slave to makeup!

I wasn’t doing it because it made me feel good, I was doing it because I HAD TO. I had boyfriends questioning “won’t you put on some concealer?” And I have friends who still question it to this day! It is like being human isn’t acceptable anymore, like having “imperfections” is the end of the world, and honestly? It is not! Acne? Everyone has them! Even Kendal Freakin Jenner has talked about it! My point here is not letting me get pushed into the pressure of trying to archive an unarchivable skin type, it is exhausting. I used to perfect the “no makeup makeup” look, like 🤔 maybe just don’t wear the makeup?

Today I’m not a slave to that anymore, I’ve been to parties, events, and any other place wearing a clean face and being extremely proud of myself. There are some days that I want to put something on, and that’s ok too, as long as I’m doing it for fun and not because I’m OBLIGATED to it! I think to me, it is the same thing with dresses and heels, I don’t need them, my femininity does not depend on them, but whenever I want to, I can wear it, for me! Have you ever thought about any of those things? Do you relate to it? Have different opinions? Let’s chat!

My Hair

If you have known me for a long time, or even if you just got here, I think it is visible that I’m always changing the color of my hair.

Most of them have a meaning attached to it, today I’m going to try and explain a little bit of what happens inside that little head of mine.

I have to start going way back and explaining that I absolutely LOVED pink when I was growing up, but with time I started forcing myself not to like it, for the simple fact that it was considered a feminine color.

I did everything to get away from that idea of being a “little girl”. I hated hearing “girls can’t do that”, “behave yourself”, “this is not ladylike”, “girls can’t talk like that”. As a born questioner, I did everything I could to rebel against the stereotype.

In 2018, when I died my hair pink, I was beginning to see “being a woman” as “being powerful”; women are strong, being a girl didn’t mean I was any less then the others, or that I couldn’t do something I wanted to.

When I died my hair blue, at the start of 2019, I had just gone through two situations that made me go back to that feeling of not liking being a woman. I wanted to get away from that, so with the blue hair came the baggy and black clothes.

After that I went through some colors that didn’t really have a meaning, didn’t have a set intention, and I always ended up back with the blue.

In 2020 I died my hair red, that was a color that made me feel powerful, I was secure with myself, that’s when my style changed and I started feeling more like me, being more confident.

This year I went back to blue, even though I loved the red, I started feeling like it drew too much attention to me.

Now I decided to go with green. Green is hope, this year has started off being very challenging and full of uncomfortable situations that require a lot of hope, and that is mirrored on my hair.