black bangles

I've never been one for bangles. I never had any and when I did, they got annoying and thy broke too quickly and I suppose there was a whole host of reasons, I never wore bangles.

 

But then there was a change in lifestyle that came with a reluctance to wear my expensive sentimental jewellery to clubs and other dodgy places. Not wearing anything at all was not an option as I had become very attached to having something on my wrist and it feels weird to not wear anything on it.

 

My cheap jewellery of choice became bangles. Black bangles in particular. There was no sinister reason or anything behind it. It was actually more practical than anything.

Black goes with everything and I tend to wear a lot of black. So black bangles made sense.

 

Then came along the inevitable.

I had the bangles and I wanted to wear them. So I did. Not all the time but whenever I felt like I did. Loads of bangles jingling on my arm. I kinda liked it. It was fun and nice and I continued on this way constantly searching for the perfect black bangles.

 

And then it happened.

 

'THE QUESTION'.

The question took me entirely by surprise. I am aware that there are people who find the devil in every nook and cranny but I was completely unprepared when it came at me.

"Is there any meaning behind wearing black bangles?"

 

Talk about being sucker punched. All the air that was floating around my system helping me maintain that daily act of breathing flew out in a gush. A feather could have knocked me over. And the person who almost always had something to say was left entirely speechless.

 

As I flustered an answer my opponent already had the left hook ready and waiting.

"Just cos that some African tribes wear certain bangles and thing as something to do with their ancestors" or something to that effect. The blood rushing to my head did not allow for accurate memory retention.

 

So down I went. My only option was to flee. Fast and furious I went out in the wide open room.

Reeling.

 

Is it really a big deal? Black bangles? I'm not really sure. I'll tell you on thing for certain. I bought then from a Pakistani guy at Gen City in Phoenix. They're cheap and three of them broke already.

But I like them.

 

I do understand that some people are hell bent (excuse the pun) on finding darkness in every little nook and cranny but well really, there's a limit. I remember being younger and told that I should not wear cross pendants cos Satanists pray over them to make every one who wears them, hate God. This was a bit difficult to swallow as my choice of pendant in nearly all of my jewellery is (didn't see this one coming?) a cross. So then that begs the question must I know never wear crosses my whole life. This coupled with everyone's aversion to black can be disconcerting sometimes.

 

I'm not gonna hid under a rock. Watching what I wear, the colours, they textures or even where it comes from. At the end of the day, it's just stuff and who controls your life and your destiny? Is it your stuff or your maker?

Black bangles, crosses, UV sticks. At the end of the day, it's all synthetic material that does nothing to maintain the delicate balance of the universe.

 

 

It's actually what's on the side that counts.  

pink spandex

Have I ever mentioned how much I absolutely love sitting on the phone and being on hold. I live for it. It makes every moment of my otherwise boring life seem so much more worthwhile. Those moments on the dance floor or eating the most divine food mean nothing when compared to sound of the telephone filling my ears. Everything else seems to pale in comparison to these moment.  Even my wedding day.

 

Okay I might be pushing it a bit now.

 

I've thinking a lot about skin colour recently.

 

Skin colour has been the topic of many an endless debate. Does the colour of your skin define who you are? Does it make you the person you were meant to be? Does it determine the role you play in society and how society itself perceives you?

 

Yes all of these things matter along with the reason I've been thinking about skin colour.

 

It all happened when I walked into a little store tucked away on a corner. Out of mind and out of site. I was dazzled. The clothes were lovely and clothes that in a normal day and time, I would never be wearing. However I had just been on the receiving end of a challenge to make myself noticeable and to "wear something insane". It was a challenge I took on with great relish. I thought about it quite a bit. "Something insane" can mean many things and lately personally, I've grown accustomed to my white hoodie with the skulls and cross bones.

 

So in this little store I stumbled across a neon pink spandex halter neck top that just screamed 'INSANE'. I gave into the voice at the back of me head and bought it.

I went home and demurely tried it on. After all one of my shape and size should never under any circumstances be wearing anything spandex … ever … at all.  Never mind the halter part

And there I was standing on the toilet in my bathroom staring at myself in neon pink spandex

 

Can I just say

 

I looked something brilliant.

 

And it had everything to do with the darkness of my skin. The neon pink seemed to take on a life of it own and really I looked something that I could never imagine my looking like.

Perhaps it was the challenge that enabled me to take this bold step but even to my own critical eye which is too often to put myself down, I could not think of a reason why I should not be seen in neon pink.

 

The point of this little diatribe is that I realised I don't have a problem with the colour of clothes. I look good in any colour. Even neon green. I know this cos I wear neo green every time I teach Sunday school.

 

So my skin colour may not be the favoured one world wide but at least I look good in all the colours the rainbow has to offer.

Okay

 

So after much thought and deliberation, I decided to deactivate my facebook account and oh boy did the queries start rolling in.

There are phases to everyone's life and while mine was obsessed with facebook and blogging for a while. I suppose now I have moved on.

A little anyway. Make no mistake. The urge to log back onto facebook and get some money on Fighter's Club will be one that will be hard to resist. After all for a little while, I lived and breathed Fighter's Club.

 

To be certain I have not exactly moved on entirely from facebook. I'm just taking an extended vacation. Similar to the one I took from blogging.

 

Anyone onto introspection.

I've realised something.

Sometimes I say too much. Please note that there is a distinct difference between talking too much and saying too much.

I say too much

 

Over the last weekend I've really been thinking a lot about how people see me and I must admit that I have no clue.

It's one of those things that you never ever do actually really know.

 

I hear what people say. How they talk about each other and then watch them with the person in question, all smiles and giggles and so taken with them.

Things like that have taught me that no matter how much somebody might be nice to me and compliment my hair, clothes and all that in front of my, it's only really the people that will tell me I look crap when I do that I really trust.

I suppose in a way I've made that a thing of mine.

To be honest. Always. No matter what.

 

I'll try at least.