State of Mind: The Truth Behind This 90’s Look

Getting out of bed, showering and putting your face on can be a task in and of itself. Depending on the day, I become a martyr to my disease and slapping on a little maroon lippie can be an EVENT. But, what I have realized through my experience with cancer is that looking decent can have a perceptual affect on your state of mind. It’s all really a state of mind, isn’t it? Life, style, beauty. Everything.

Here are grungy truths behind this circa 1990’s look:


The truth is, I am about five weeks late. December and January proved to be some of the fullest months and keeping up with my Marilyn bomb blonde has been a tragedy. Fret not, my friends — all you have to do is step up your braid game and all of your hair procrastinations will come to a hault. Taking a page from the 90’s look, I utilized my exaggerated roots to my advantage and pinned a few small braids back. Perfect for a day or night look, but most importantly this adds a bit of edge to the chaos that is often my unkempt hair.



Moody makeup is essential for the grunge-era style, primarily being brown, black and maroon tones. NYX Lip Crème was the perfect go-to for a dark pout. The thing about this particular look is that it allows for both a dark lip and eye. To stick with the mood, I used the same NYX Lip Crème in Knockout on my lids and under my eyes. It’s the maroon version of “pink eye”. Sullen, shadowy cheek contouring, thick layers of mascara on the upper and lower lashes and a mad dash of eyeliner and the face is sealed.

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What made the scruffy 90’s so amazing is that you were able to take random pieces and wear them all together. Expending a queue from that particular fashion or anti-fashion, if you will, is what I live for. Getting away with a dead comfortable outfit, in addition to looking like one bad 90’s bitch,is a combo I will always appreciate. Each piece was already in my closet. Here’s the drop on some truths behind the look:

Sweater: Venice Beach Baja Sweater from a dive  kiosk — $10.00

Skirt: Black camisole, used as mini-max skirt

Tights + Shoes: Maroon H&M tights that have a ton of holes in them, but, who care because the black, lace up, combat boot covered all of the holes in my tights. Old boots $20.00.

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Whether my tights had holes in them, I was wearing old boots and a baja sweater, I felt on point and 90’s vibing simply because of my disposition.

Style is YOUR state of mind.


Britt x

#FBF — Chop, Chop:


Thinking of chopping my hair off again, but this time without resembling Kris Jenner.  It’s 106* here in Phoenix and I am melting!    What do you say? x


A Fist Full of Vanity

#Vanity I #BSMHB #BeStillMyHeartBlog I

I’ve come to discover that every person’s chemo experience, as well as cancer experience is singular.  It is an experience all of one’s own.  There may be a multitude of guidebooks and/or instructions on what to do when going through chemo, but the anthology of chemo is merely individual based.  After all, it is called “practicing medicine”. 

Tonight was the first time in quite some time that I felt a sense of shock.  Much like my ignorance to my pre-cancer diagnosis symptoms, I have continued on the same path with my post-cancer diagnosis, to feel immune and exempt from the standard woes of chemotherapy and the side effects it escorts.  Undoubtedly, I have endured a number of side effects, some that are considered rare and some that are painstakingly obvious.  My collection of derivative symptoms have contained a myriad of unusual things, such as my heart troubles, but the one thing I have been able to avoid is hair loss. Typically those who are not familiar with the various chemo cocktails and the individual based potions that it consists of, find hair loss to be synonymous with cancer and the chemo effect.  On the contrary, not every chemo cocktail constitutes the loss of hair, but may include the thinning of hair, or nothing at all.  Within my particular chemo treatment, hair loss is particularly uncommon; however thinning has a heeded warning.  Being that I have not had either, up to this point, I have considered myself to be very fortunate in that regard.  I’ve always reckoned that by not “looking” sick, has enabled me to live without an exterior appearance that I am battling cancer.  An ignorant thought, yes, but nonetheless it helped me to blend with the “normal” people and feel more like them.

Taking queues from the expert’s advice has not been my strong suit thus far.  In preparation for the Holiday Season, full of soirees and celebrations, I reasoned that giving my hair a bit of a refresher was necessary.  The drab, drowned out brown needed some vivacity.  Against the instructions from my Doctor’s, I decided to do a DIY hair color at home.  Sounds simple enough, right?  Wrong!   Bestowed upon my obliviousness to the professional cautioning, vanity prevailed.

As I opened the cheap box of L’Oreal hair color, it represented liveliness to my lackluster hair and a refresher that was long overdue.  I mixed the hair dye and shook it as though I was making a mixed drink; a professional bartender in the works.  The Dark Chocolate Brown began to soak in and I could feel the freshness of my hair convening its revival.

Soon after, it was time to hit the shower and rinse the dye away in preparation for the newness.  With the water rinsing rapidly, I was gently rubbing my head to assist the water to extract the colorant.  As I brought my hand away from my head, I was alarmed to see a fist full of hair.  I continued to touch my head in shock.  “This can’t be happening, I am not supposed to loose my hair”, I said to myself as I freaked.

Subsequently, as I braved the confines outside of the shower, my reflection was hazy from the steam.  I wiped away the moisture and hesitantly examined my hair.  To no fault of my own, I discovered small patches that could not stay intact against the chemicals of the dye job.  Immediately I began to well up with tears, as this was the first time I had experienced the effects of hair loss.  By my own judgment, I felt as though coloring my hair would have zero impact on my scalp/hair, despite the Doctor’s caveat.

Naturally, I have spent the last hour beating myself up over my inconsiderable poor judgment and have reflected upon my jaded actions in feeling exempt from disease, even still.  But, in this lies a lesson that I have to trust the guidelines of the professionals, do as I am told and open my eyes to the fact that my individuality in the cancer process may have its singular parts, but as a whole I am a cancer patient, just like the other cancer patients that I  accompany in this uphill battle.  Narcissism will no longer concede me and from here on out I will not falter from the admonitions of the Healthcare Professionals.