A Curly Haired Girl's Guide to Survival

You know that saying that hair is a woman's glory? This statement isn't more true than for a curly haired girl. Most of us curly haired girls have spent so many years getting to know the ins and outs of managing our unpredictable hair (with more than a tear or two shed) that we've kind of become our hair. Screw that whole "one with the world" thing. We're one with our hair. My feelings toward my curls have been a roller coaster ride over the years. I've loved it, hated it, wished it would just be "normal", gotten into fights with it, cried over it, felt sorry that I ever hated it, and fallen in love with it all over again. I think it's safe to compare my hair to a relationship with a stubborn unmanageable man that never listens to me. When I was a kid I loved my curls. Mostly because when I was a kid having curly hair was cool and adorable. I mean, who doesn't love a kid with curls? Hallelujah Shirly Temple! I loved the attention and praise my curls got me. Then of course, puberty happened and it all went to shuck. (Don't know what shuck is? It's pretty self explanatory but see my "isms" tab.) All of the other girls had perfectly shiny smooth straight hair while I had this giant mass of curls that always got stuck to stuff and probably weighed more than the rest of my 12 year old little body. I hated it. I hated sticking out like a sore thumb because my hair was drier than the Sahara and bigger than a badonkadonk. Even though my parents had striven to build up my self confidence about my hair over the years it was no use. Like every other wee little pre-teen I just wanted so badly to fit in and look like all of the other "hot" girls. I'd always BEG my parents to let me straighten it. Rightly, they never did. I'd always shut myself up in the bathroom and wonder if I wished hard enough if my hair would turn straight. Thank you fairy godmother for not actually existing!

When I turned 15 my parents finally decided to lift the iron curtain of the "no heat" rule. I went a little heat crazy. I mean, I took it slowly at first. I started out just curling it a couple of days a week with a wide curling iron for smoother looser curls. I'd basically curl it how it's curled in these photos. Then it turned into an everyday thing. Then, I finally took the leap and full on straightened it. I hated it. So much. I thought it looked awful and that was the moment I realized that I didn't hate my hair. I liked my hair. No, more than that I LOVED my hair. My hair was what made me...well, me. Without my curls I was just like all of the other girls. I wasn't unique anymore. Who cared if everyone thought my hair looked "puffy", or if all of the other girls spent half an hour everyday straightening their hair. Allexis without curls wasn't Allexis at all. I am now, one with my curls. We're buds. I love them, and feel sorry that I ever hated them and abused them with years of heat. 

{Wilson's Leather: leather jacket similar only $15!; F21: graphic tee from a thousand years ago cute options here and here, shorts similar; Steve Madden: sandals similar; h&m: earring with earcuff similar} 

Now, onto my "Guide to Survival" for curly hair which was inspired by a list I saw on buzzfeed. Which, speaking of buzzfeed, take a moment to read this other list of curly hair problems. http://www.buzzfeed.com/erinlarosa/problems-only-people-with-curly-hair-will-understand It's pee your pants hilarious even if you don't have curly hair!!

A Curly Haired Girl's Guide to Survival

1. When people are fascinated by your hair and say the inevitable, "WOW, just look at your hair!" Keep the witty "yeah I've noticed...it's on my head", comment to yourself. After all, they mean well. 
2. People will never understand how it works. They will always see curly hair as being some strange alien technology so know this: Having curly hair basically qualifies you to be a scientist. Except that you didn't have to go to school for it. BOOM. Total win. 
3. People will ALWAYS want to touch and feel it. Take this in stride. It's just part of the job of being a curly haired mad scientist. Plus, if their fingers happen to get lost and stuck in the Bermuda Triangle that is curly hair...well, they can't say you didn't tell them not to run their fingers through it. ;) 
4. You've spent your entire childhood attempting to control it. My advice? Stop trying. There's no such thing as controlling curly hair. Learn to GUIDE it instead. Also, as a kid, when your loving mom attacks your head with a comb after every bath just know that she doesn't know any better and eventually both she and you will learn that curly hair isn't supposed to be combed. What about the hours of torture you've already suffered through with your mom you ask? Consider it mother/daughter bonding time. Texas Chainsaw style. 
5. People will talk about it as being, "frizzy, busy, dizzy". It'll hurt but its a lesson in self confidence that needs to be learned.
6. Getting a haircut will always be a nightmarish process. One, because its hard to trust someone with your curls and trust that they won't make you look like Big Bird. Two, because you will always get the inevitable, "Wow. This is a lot of hair. A LOT of hair. Cancel my next ten appointments! ...Did you know you have a lot of thick hair"? No, Sherlock. I've just been living with it my whole life but I didn't know. Thanks for breaking it to me. 
7. When you do find a stylist that can work with the curls, sing hallelujah and stick with that stylist as long as possible! 
8. The world will generally see curly hair as something to be fixed or improved upon. All those straightening shampoos and salon treatments? Ignore 'em. Your curly hair doesn't need to be fixed. And when you inevitably get asked the mother of all annoying curly hair questions...

          Just smile and wave. Smile and Wave.

    9.   Suffering through commercials targeting curly hair with non curly hair models never gets less annoying.

             

10. At the end of the day, though, just remember that the constant day to day battle is worth it because having curly hair makes you a bad a$* and you'll never need volume. Suck on them apples flat hair! ;) 

Much Love!

Linking up With: Beceause Shanna Said So and Fashion and Beauty Finds

Lost Girl

I'm starting this post under the assumption that we all have that one weird movie that makes us cry. That one movie that isn't really cry worthy but for some reason when we watch it our little hearts go pitter pat and our eyes feel compelled to shed a tear or two (or three, or four, or a hundred). I actually have a few of these, among which are "My Best Friends Wedding", "13 Going On 30", and the one that takes the cake "Peter Pan". Lets discuss Peter Pan shall we? As a kid I liked Peter Pan but I didn't LOVE Peter Pan. I now LOVE Peter Pan. I think my adulthood love for the movie goes back to the moment when I first cried watching it. I was about 19 and I was babysitting four of my favorite little girls on the planet. We had bunkered down in their theater room, dimmed the lights and snuggled up to watch the movie. I was glued to my seat intensely watching every minute and by the time the credits started rolling I was tearing up big time. One of the girls noticed the water works and sweetly but bluntly asked me, "Why are you crying? Are you ok?" It's kind of hard to explain to a three year old the reasons for which why as a fully fledged young adult you're crying at Peter Pan so I just sniffled at her, "I just really like this movie". She accepted this as a perfectly reasonable explanation and excitedly went on to ask me if I'd spin her around. Bless her heart.

Now, lets talk about why I went into full on wacko head mode. I've never really been one to act my age. I've always had two ages that define my personality and my behaviors, 5 and 75. From the ages of zero to five I generally acted my appropriate age. Then, from the ages of five to about fifteen I acted like a 75 year old grandma with a bit of my five year old flair and tendencies on the side. When I turned fifteen it's like a switch flipped and my inner five year old got sick of being side lined and decided it was time to sideline my inner 75 year old grandma instead. That's kind of about the time that this happened:

I went from looking forward to the day when my advanced vocabulary and love of mushy foods that didn't require chewing would be acceptable to behaving like a five year old frolicking in a field of daisies sucking on a lollipop while spouting out fancy words that only a 75 year old English professor has the right to know. 

{F21: plaid button up similar, black shorts similar here and here, pearl hair pin -borrowed from my sister-similar; Tanger Outlets: white oxfords similar; A&F: belt similar; Watch: borrowed from my little brother similar}

Can you understand why I could relate to Peter Pan so much now? I went from looking forward to growing up to never wanting to age another day again. I wanted to be a Lost Boy. Except I'd be a Lost Girl. I wanted to go to Neverland where I'd never have to stop imagining, daydreaming, skipping randomly, riding on the wheels of the carts at supermarkets, singing about everything that I do, getting overly excited about dessert, and living 90% of my day caught up in the world that is my mind. At nineteen I was already longing for my "lost youth". I know, I was crazy. Nineteen is still young, but in that tear filled moment I just felt like my youth was fast fleeting. Now that I'm seven months away from turning 22 I'm feeling that way all over again. (22 guys! That's so insanely old! Anyone older than 22 feel free to virtually punch me now.) Twenty-two just seems like it's the age when I will probably be forced out of the Neverland I've been living in. Like it's the age to finally stop relying on my creativity and imagination to get my by in the world and let my inner 75 year old grandma make her reappearance. That's the thing, though. If you think about it, 75 year olds really aren't all that different from little kids. They're both short highly emotional people. Except that children don't know much about living and 75 year olds do. Maybe this maturity thing will be a win, win? I'll let you know once and if it happens. In the words of good old Peter, "Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." So maybe I shouldn't completely say goodbye to my inner five year old? Maybe I should just let my inner grandma and my inner child split their time evenly because saying goodbye to my inner five year old would be saying goodbye to who I am and after all, "I like being weird...and I'm gonna have fun cause there's nothing wrong with who I am". 

Much Love!

Linking up with: thepleatedpoppy.com 

Pure Imagination

Anyone who knows me knows that I live in LaLa Land. In fact, I'm the reigning queen of LaLa Land. Ever since I was a kid I've enjoyed spending the majority of my day contemplating the world, daydreaming and just plain old imagining up a bunch of random things. When I was a small child I would concern myself with subjects that most children don't really think about. I wondered about things like who I was and why I was even on Earth, how old people got white hair, and the specifics of how old people die. I came up with some pretty weird theories for all of these things. My explanation for white hair? I thought old people just had a bunch of lice eggs on their heads and that's what made their hair so white. My theory for death? I thought that when old people...well...nah, I won't tell you guys what my childhood theory for death was. It's pretty creepy. Anyway, I've always just lived on the moon. Head in the clouds. Most of the time I've got a dazed and confused look about me because I'm so caught up in my fantasies. My inability to pay attention to what was going on around me, in addition to getting me into trouble a lot of the time, gave me a good ability. The ability of self teaching. I always tried really hard to pay attention in school as a kid but my mind would always inevitably wander, leaving me without a clue about portions of what had been taught during the school day. As I explained in this post I was obsessive about excelling in school so I'd just go home with my text books and teach myself the portions of the lesson that I had missed.

{H&M: white basic tank; Pacsun: light wash skinny jeans; GoJane: faux suede booties; Van Heusen: sunnies similar; Target: wallet; Cardigan: inherited from my grandma, Owl Earrings: gift from my little sister}

What's the point to all of this rambling about my never paying attention you ask? Well...to be honest I kind of already forgot the point of what I was saying...sorry. Maybe that'll be the point. That I don't ever pay attention to things and I apparently have the memory of a goldfish. Sorry guys, I honestly just can't remember where I was even going with this post. Let's just drop it talk about my outfit instead? I got this cute little cardigan thing from a box of the things my grandma left in the states the last time she visited us before her passing and I love it. I picked it out from among her things because it reminded me of a certain magazine cover that I had always loved.

I don't know why but when I first saw this magazine cover as a teenager I just totally fell in love with the blazer Jessica is wearing and for reasons unbeknownst to me the cover has just always stayed etched into my mind ever since. When I saw my grandma's little sweater it reminded me of Jessica's blazer and I knew that I had to have it not only to have an item that reminded me of my grandma but to finally be able to recreate the Jessica look that I had so loved as a teenager.

Much Love!

Linking up with: What She Wears 

Netflix (and other addictions)

Hello my dearest home skillets. Yupp, I still have a little of my thug talk left over from Sunday, only this time it has more of a British flair. ;) Today's story will be about a strapping young man who passed on his love and taste for good movies and television onto his even more strapping children. ;) Yupp, you guessed it, I'm talking about my pops. As kids instead of spending time 'round the fire, my siblings and I would spend our evenings thus; first we would eat dinner together while our parents encouraged us to have intellectual talk and then we would gather round the tele (say tele like the Brits would. It's fun.) for an episode of a Spanish Telenovela (Soap Opera). Some of my fondest childhood memories spent with my dad are ones when we're watching movies. 

Like that one time when I was 6 and he let my older sister and me watch a horror movie about a killer bear. It taught us to be tough. If we admitted we were scared we would've been marched off to bed instantly, so we sat like statues pretending to be brave. That night I had nightmares but I was never scared of monsters in my room ever again and scary movies just weren't as scary anymore. Or that other time when I was about 8 and we watched "Fools Rush In", starring Salma Hayek and the guy from Friends, for the hundredth time and consequently major family drama ensued. The time when I was 12 and we all stayed up super late as he taught us about the best movie trilogy ever, Back to the Future (second only to Star Wars of course). We watched all three back to back. 

I love TV. I love movies. No shame here, guys. I used to figure, as long as I spent most of the day being social, working, exercising, and/or involving myself in other activities who cared if I watched a "couple" of episodes of TV series now and then? Enter Netflix and the downfall of any productivity began. At first it was just an "ooo they have one of my favorite movies on here! I'll watch when I get a minute", then it turned into, "Sigh...I loved that movie. Oh look! They've got Buffy the Vampire Slayer on here!" From there it turned into, "Must. Watch. Every. Episode. Of. EVERY. Season." AND then from there it turned into watching Mulan and Thumbelina. I mean, I know they're awesome movies ("Dishonor on you! Dishonor on ya cow! Dishonor on ya whole family!" Best Mulan quote ever.) but come on now guys, I'm watching kids movies here. KIDS movies. I'm even actually seeking out new TV series to watch on the bloody thing. It's a full blown apocalypse. Apocalypse.  

{H&M: polka dot button up top, skirt similar: Banana Republic: belt similar; F21: bird ring similar; Go Jane: faux suede booties; Van Heusen: sunnies similar; T-Shirt: hand me up from my little brother, similar}

Don't be little liars, though, guys. I know that as you poke fun at my Netflix addiction you're secretly closing the app on your phone. ;) Was that poor blogger etiquette? Yeah, it's probably considered poor taste to call your readers little liars and imply that they're as creepy as you. Anyway, other than the fact that I went completely AWOL watching nonstop Netflix for a day there, I'm proud to say I'm back on track. I can proudly say that 90% of my day is being spent occupying myself with the activities mentioned above. I'm clean guys! I'm clean! Says the girl who's about to ask you guys to share your Netflix favorites. Without further ado, what are you loving on Netflix right now? Comment below or shoot me an email! My newest poison is "White Collar". It's basically about the hottest man you will ever see who also happens to be a completely bad a$* genius. Look at him.

Do you need any further explanation? I think not. Now go watch the first episode and get hooked! There's a shirtless scene and I can promise that his abs are just about as chiseled as his cheek bones. 

Much love! 

Linking up with: Because Shanna Said So, The Pleated Poppy, and Fashion and Beauty Finds

An Oompa Loompa and a Half

Hey kids! Ok, no. That's weird. I shouldn't call you all kids. Heeeeeey...peeps, homies, dogs, compadres, home skillets. Ok. I'll stop. Anyway, welcome. Before we get started on yet another edge of your seat exciting story about how I got to this point in time where I'm an odd little fashion blogger, lets talk about the changes you may have noticed here at LCF. (That's the cool little abbreviation that I literally just invented for Life of a Coy Fish ;) As you may have noticed there have been small upgrades to this little page of mine. I changed my little photo to the left over there and the information underneath. AND I added new tabs up top! Check them out if you're new 'round these parts and/or if you just want to learn some more interesting lil' things about me. I promise you a handful of giggles and entertainment if you do! I'm pretty proud of my work if I do say so myself. Let me know what y'all think. Ok, seriously, I don't know why I'm talking like a southern belle gangsta who thinks she's British and just so thug. I'll try to stop. Promise. Lets get to the story telling kids, buckle yer seatbelts and settle in! Yee diddly haw! Sorry. Now I just sound like a creepy cowboy bus driver who might secretly think she's a pirate. To the story!

The other day I was at the DMV renewing my license. I was just there having a lil' bit of trouble comfortably reaching the countertop on which I was supposed to be filling out my paperwork. Anyway, I fill out my hair color, eye color, and weight when I reach the part about height. I figure, hey, it's been 5 years since I officially measured myself why not do it again. Ya know, to see if I've grown a bit? I head on over to the measuring wall and look at the line that marks five feet and think to myself, "pshh, well that's pretty low. There's no way I'm only three inches taller than that. I'm DEFinitely taller than 5'3 by now. I'll clear that easily. In fact, that 6 feet mark is looking pretty friendly. Yupp. I think I'll reach the 6 line now. Easy." Ha, I was functioning under some MAJOR DMV delusions because when I straightened myself up all nice and proud thinking, "in fairness, once I reach that 6 mark I should probably deduct a little bit for my shoes", I realized that I barely cleared 5'3. Not including my "shoe deduction". I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe some part of me was hoping I had finally accomplished one if my childhood goals. 

 {Target: black peplum top similar, wallet; F21 skirt similar; Charlotte Russe: heels similar; Banana Repbulic: belt similar here in a set of two!}

You see, when I reached the tender age of 12 I wanted so badly to be tall. I thought I was in my growing prime and that I had the potential to grow to be 5'10. Why did I care so much you ask? For a few reasons. 

1-I wanted to win Miss Universe for Guatemala sooooo badly. You see, my country had never won the crown. I wanted them to have at least one win and I thought if I grew tall enough I could do it. I know. I had strange aspirations as a child. I guess I was just like one of those mega fit Chinese Olympians that just really, really want to bring honor to their country. Except instead of doing it incredible athlete style I planned on doing it pageant style. 

2-For some reason I thought if I grew to be a mega giant I would make my parents insanely proud. Like it'd be some huge dishonor to my family name if I didn't grow to be 6'4. I don't know what my obsession with honor was. I think maybe I thought I was Mulan or something. 

3-My grandma once told me at some point in my childhood that my arms looked long and that meant I would be tall. I think my arms probably just looked twiggy and therefore deceivingly long. Either way, it got my hopes up that I'd be 7ft tall. 

Anyway, as you all know I didn't get to be 7ft, or 6'4, or 5'10. I peaked at 5'3. Not short enough to be considered dainty and cute but not anywhere NEAR tall enough to be a glamazon. I think part of me has always harbored secret height delusions. Part of my personality is my hidden annoyance that I'm neither very tall or very small. I'm just half way short. An Oompa Loompa and a half if you will. Well, there ya have it. Another "Am I Even Funny" life story that somewhat explains why I am the way I am and contributes to the overall larger picture of why I'm here blogging about fashion. How do you guys feel about your height? Good? Bad? Happy? Sad? 

Much love!

P.S. This is the third time I've styled this skirt on this blog already. It was money well spent those 6 years ago when my awesome older sister bought it for me simply because she felt I HAD to have it. Also, I spy with my little eye my little sisters' reflection in the photos above. ;)