7 Things | The Month of Love.



Hey there!

I hope it's been a great Thursday for you, if not I have great news for you: Tomorrow is Friday.

This is a really quick 7 Things post to share the seven things that made me smile/happy this past month.

1. My Knock Knock Kraft journal I got at my job. It's home to a lot of my ideas re a website I'm working on. You can buy yours here.

2. My new "iziqhaza" earrings. A Zulu baddie needs Zulu swag.

3. My Lancome bag. Obviously. My beauty. I gushed about it in a bag "haul" post here.

4. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath (1963) it's my boss'. She let me borrow it. I've thoroughly enjoyed it so far. I just haven't opened it in over a week because Esther describing the depression hits too close. I'm hoping to get my head in again and restart it and finish it.

5. My lady bug socks! I've had them for a while, bought them on the streets for like R15.00/R20.00 bucks. They're my favourite thing to wear with my ugliest shoes.

6. Cheap ass cocoa butter hand cream. My hands are pleased.

7. Now this lip balm... It was an impulse splurge I made the last time I was at Woolworths looking for bras, buying panties and opaque tights. It smells delicious, feels like velvet on my lips and keeps them moisturised. It also cost R25.00. Perspective: I could have bought Nivea shits with that money.

These are small tools of self-care and I'm using the hell out of them.

What have been your favourite things lately?

Boys With Faces

Vuyo, Yannick, Malume waBantweezy. lol
A photograph that would make me happier, at this moment, does not exist. Basically fahnness x creative pioneering and stuff. These are definitely dudes with faces, yo. The Photo is by Jody Brand. CLICK THE LINK.

Hair Story

As I'm loading these images into this post I realise that there isn't much of a "hair story." Not an interesting one, anyway. But I'm writing and posting this thing anyway. Regardless. Feast These are over-processed selfies from my crapberry and I'm posting them on my blog on the internet just because. Just nje.  
 This is from early December. The dude at the "salon" by me had just burnt my scalp to come nice with the hair-dryer. My sister was trying to talk to me while I was busy trying to document my feelings and my exceptionally to-the-sky hair.

This is from a couple of days later, showcasing my botched dye job in daylight. #SadGirlsWithBadDyeJobs



 This series is called: Maybe I'm Sassy Angry. Not really. It's from Early 2014. I'd just taken my conrow braids out. My hairline be knowing.



 These are birthday selfies. Tell me how pretty my hands are.


Pretedning to be Hagrid.
  This is me 22 years and a day old.
This is me on Valentine's Day. A month after my cut. Craving a re-cut badly. I wish I'd worn this hearts cardigan ironically. I only remember after the fact that it was Valentines.

I got my touch up haircut on Friday but I don't have a photo and stuff. Clearly the selfies I take with my phone were not intended for consumption by people that aren't me. You can tell by the general tone of the things.

Like I said, not much of a story.

Unpopular Opinion | Phansi NgoJarepita





While a lot of people (read the fraction of Black Twitter I'm plugged into) were discussing Hollywood's particular attention to new It Girl Lupita Nyong'o (when I saw her interview on one of the late night American Talk Shows I was totes impressed that her surname was pronounced just as I'd thought) I was thrilled for her -- no reservations. Sure, red carpet commentary that focuses on her skin tone makes me cringe I think it's important to note that she doesn't look like women who are typically celebrated in Hollywood and she's a wonderful beauty idol for girls called "omnyamane" (hate that term.) The sort of treatment that's made people look at fashion and Hollywood all suspicious-like and asking if the industry is making Lupita Nyong'o a token is what I've applied to the rumoured blooming romance that had everyone talking at the Golden Globes. Yes, as you can tell, I totally keep things current on this blog. -_____-

I'm all for Team Occupy Ngamla. All in. But there's just something about the way this Jared Leto vent (I've always wanted to call someone a "vent") looks at my girl that has all the NOs within my capacity going off. Maybe it's that hair and creepy beard throwing me off but he doesn't strike me like he has good intentions. I CAN TELL ALL THAT FROM A PICTURE. Shurrup. All the question that people have posed about why Hollywood is obsessed with Miss Nyong'o (uhm, because she's fahn and flaw-repelling and judging by the reaction to 12 Years A Slave she's even fahner as an actress) I've directed toward these events lovey doveyness. Exotic, mysterious beauty stereotypes are all the red flags I see while my timeline is gushing  Lupared. I do not ship them.

Anyway.

Maybe they're just friends. Maybe they're in deep, burning love. Maybe nobody cares what I think. lol

Also, yes, the burning looks are mutual. :-)

Always Tripping Back into Real Life

Fact: I abandoned the writing challenge I was doing because meh.
Another Fact: There's just one more thing I wanted to share.
OK.

Day 20 How I imagined my twenties VS reality.


Until I was about 16 and a half, when I realised that my mother being ill wasn't a nightmare from which I was going to suddenly awaken, I used to have grand and elaborate plans. I had cities I was sure I would have visited by now, hearts I would have eaten and  that sort of thing.

Don't get me wrong, I still have plans and some sort of dreams. Goodness I hope I do. But have the two years I've spent as a twenty-something been what I'd expected, heck, hoped for? No. I tend to believe that dreams and hopes are prayers, so I'd hoped life right now would be a whole lot less difficult and much more fun. With lots more love and laughs and money. Basically when I was picturing my early twenties I did not anticipate being at the very same place I was when I was 12 -- only with bills and stress and boobs. I wanted, still want, people to look at me (not because I took my proverbial "band geek girl" glasses off) and go "wow, you're amazing." And obviously I'd go "Dass right, motherfuckers" and flip my weave. I had hoped I'd be happier within myself, happier than I am right now.


Some totally irrelevant images, aside from the fact that I like them, I did not take.


There was a time during high school I was certain I'd go into film-making -- a visit to AFDA (a film school) did very little to deter this. I remember in one of the first bucket lists I ever wrote (I haven't written one since high school) I wrote that I wanted for "one of my show ideas to be dancing by the time I'm 22." Dancing comes from the film Dancing in September and I meant I wanted to have a TV show (or informercial even) on the air by the time I was 22. The other day it was a month since I turned 22 and I have absolutely no regrets as far as not having a TV show in concerned. These days I'm more crippled by the fact that I don't write, the fact that my people are still not here (the deadline on that is 23 *nervous laughter*) and the uncertainty of my jobbing and income stream. Those are the sort of things I worry about now. That's a testament to no longer being fifteen. I know what I really would love to be doing but I also like to eat so I compromise and bend.

I'd hoped I'd have collected some experiences and stories to tell. What can happen in twenty-two years? A lot. I've been out of high school since I was sixteen so I did expect that I would have done a whole lot of living by now.

Things under-sixteen-year-old me expected to have achieved by now:


  • A job
  • A place
  • Happiness
  • Body peace
  • To have mastered walking in heels
  • Excelling at being an unfriendly black hottie
  • Having all my people here already
  • Feelings of belonging
  • Travelling
  • Writing steadily. Furiously. Giddily.
  • Documenting everything because you're only twenty-something once
  • Doing things worth documenting
  • Self-knowledge 
Things I've achieved since:

  • A part-time job

/\______________________/\/\/\/\

This all probably means nothing outside of the maybe I'm deeply disappointed and deeply dissatisfied context but  maybe it also means the world and stuff. Maybe it should start an examination into what it will take for my default reaction to stop being"meh" and general underwhelment.

I had also not expected that I was this resilient and adaptable and generally badass. Actually edited this post to include this last bit. I don't acknowledge that enough. Not out loud anyway. Staying on course and keeping at it has always been something that had to be done. And I'm doing it. Impressed as fuck with myself for not falling apart.

Bag Lady.

I recently shut my online Thrift store down for a bit because I'm just not happy with the direction and branding. I miss the fun and rush that goes with thrifting so yesterday I went and got myself some nice bags. My total wasn't even R50.00 so heeey. (I also got some vintage Levis, Wrangler and Lee Jeans. If you're in Johannesburg and are interested email me and I'll let you know what I have.)






The fuzzy, grey Lancome one is my absolute favourite - I hate choosing because they all make me happy but it's unlike any bag I've ever owned. The chain was removed so I'm still deciding whether to add one or to haul it around all clutch-like.

Today's not a good day. This weekend hasn't been that good (aside from these bags.) I'm seriously waiting for someone to tell me that it's the moon or mercury or SOMETHING making me feel this way. I hate being sad - even though I'm sad often. I was supposed to get my hair recut - I have not. I'm just so tired. Emotional and mental exhaustion is trending hard in my life. But a new week is starting a ndI'm hoping things improve.

I hope you're having a better Sunday.

7 Things | V-Day as Self-care


Hello.

I haven't written here in a minute. I have content ideas I'm just in somewhat of a creative slump, add to that a fish for a computer and virtually no data. But whateves, right? This is the first 7 Things Thursday of the year and it's a Valentine's special. Whoo! If I was with someone and they were inclined to buy me stuff on "special" (read my birthday, v-day, their birthday, Krismesi...) occassions then Data, an eWallet and Asos gift cards would be their best options. In that order. But these are just some things I really get myself, ya know?

List after the jump.

The (Fat) Sports Bra.

For the purposes of this post and life in general I'd recommend background reading of two past posts 1. The abridged history of me trying to wear clothes here and 2. my running shoes porn with some mention of sports bras here.

Okay.

So yesterday I woke up early-ish and went to meet a wonderful supporter of my shop business and funny Twitter acquaintance to deliver her latest buys. Then took another (connecting) taxi and headed out to Maponya mall, which is a place I'll never get, to go shop at Mr Price Sports. I'd heard decent things about their sports bras and I figured since it's Mr P it wouldn't be too expensive. Now, I don't know much about sports things in general but I definitely did not expect every single bra to be size L/XL - whatever the hell that means

Even from the look of them they looked one-size-fits-all, which raised my eyebrows. There isn't a standard breast size. I tried one bra from the "Maxed" brand that looked like it might offer some support. MAJOR fail. Even over my daily bra (which I'm ashamed to admit is a bit battered and is probably small) it felt like a stretch-y cloth wrapped on my tattas. Zero support.

Some observations:

1. Mr Price Sports assumes that fitness and being active has a certain look. A size. It's evident in their Maponya Mall store. I'm here to say fuck that.

2. If you're my size, bigger or just bit smaller - say 40D - trying to get active Mr Price Sports is not here for you. Call them when you're a 36 max.

3. Surely sports bras are meant to be more than just an expensive fabric stretched over the girls. Surely.

4. Support is key. KEY.

5. Trying to get active at my current weight is sure going to be interesting.

I took my Sports bra money and went to their main store next door. Bought my sister some platforms on sale, bought my first pair of heels (it's going to be a lol, maybe I'll make a video trying to walk in them) and a shirt dress.

What have been your experiences with trying to buy sports bras and other fitness apparel at whatever level of fitness or size you were in? Please share. Also, if you're from Southern Africa and you've found the perfect sports bra support, size variety and price wise please share the brand/shop.


Sincerely,
Nomali.

I'm Quite Sad



This time next week some lucky people will be getting ready to enjoy the full Kendrick Lamar live experience. Kendrick will be playing Johannesburg Stadium next Saturday as part of a larger tour of the whole country in support of his good kid, m.A.A.d city album. I'm so jealous of all those people who will get to experience his energy live I could spit. Especially after watching that video of him performing at the GRAMMY awards...

I can't cope. I'm firmly planted within my feels over this. 

PS: I'll be doing a daily writing challenge during the month of February. I'll keep all the pieces on the Facebook page so please check in every other day -- if you're into it.

© Nomali from Soweto. Design by Fearne.