The last few months

Holy shit so much has happened in the last few months or so I feel like it. It’s been one crazy ass rollercoaster that’s about to fall off the tracks.

I had my third kiddo 6 months ago.. damn he’s already 6 months old. Yes that means my other two are already 5 and almost 3 😮

My daughter (the firstborn) started preK. My son was more upset than she was, but she’s thriving and loving it.

The husband and I celebrated 16 years together in October ( only 3 years married though).

My mother passed away in November (I’m going to write a whole post about that) and that has been difficult to deal with.

I went a took a class to become a Mortgage Loan Originator- the state test is coming up, fingers crossed 🤞

I celebrated 1 year in therapy recently too and I think I graduated since my current therapist wants me to go see someone else and get medicated 🤣

On the matter of medication my anxiety and depression went on a stroll and met up with post partum depression…what bitches.




How My Insecurities and the Love of Sharp Objects Started.

I was a little, 4 year old girl with curly hair down past my waist living in the Bronx, New York.

I had moved to my new home a year prior (a story for another time) I was enjoying life,c’mon I mean how many 4 year  olds arent enjoying life.

I don’t  remember a lot of the incident,especially the girl that would start the chain of insecurities. 

My mother had taken me to the park,which she had done numerous times before. I was playing around until some faceless little girl came up to me and commented on my hair.

Up until this point, I had only gotten love for my curly hair,even if it was only from family.

She said  I had ugly hair. Ugly hair. That was all. My once beautiful  hair was now tainted, no longer pretty in my eyes.

I don’t  know if i had told my mother at that point, I dont think I did; I just wanted to go home.

When I got home; I’m  not sure if my little 4 year old brain was plotting this the whole walk home or if it was a spontaneous fuck you but without anyone noticing I grabbed a huge pair of scissors and locked myself away.

I remember the weight in my small hand, length half the size of my arm. I remember crying, how could someone be so cruel when I didnt even do anything. I was just playing around,laughing, minding my own damn business.

I started cutting, curls falling around me.

I cut and cut.

My mother must have knew something was wrong because she started banging on the door.

But I was too scared, I was sitting in a pile of my own hair. I had really did it and I was going to be in such big trouble.

I remember  yelling in a tiny broken voice that everything was fine. God I was 4 and she knew better.

I eventually opened up the door and tried  to run into the bathroom. I didnt really want to face my mom, I already had one bad encounter that day, why add more misery.

I had cut more than a foot off my hair. My hair that was being grown for my whole life was cut off in a matter of minutes because of some little bitch.

Of course my mother had yelled at me,she had loved my hair. But she also understood, kinda, I still get made fun of but no point trying to explain 20 year old feelings.

She took me to the nearest salon,who tried to salvage my hair but ended up cutting it shorter. I had a jewfro. I know thats not a nice thing to say but it was true.

For the next 10 years I had the worse haircut ever imaginable.

Seriously, the worse. I was called a chia pet and countless other fun names.

I eventually got my hair straighten out ( not literally) and then never went to a hair stylist again.

Why go when scissors are my best friend and with practice has come perfection. 

I’ve learned the master of cutting my own hair, meh maybe not the greatest but to me to fine.

Needless to say, I keep my hair short. Ive never had in to my waist again and I don’t want it.

– J. Rose