*deep sighs in black sarcasm*

Chile… I didn't know what I was about to do.

Everything already high as is…

So, here's me getting a little yippy about the things that matter:

• Revelations from WFH

• Affordable weave

• Zeelol and the Nintendo Switch 2

Oh… wait… tarrifs got a 90-day rollback?! I think our concerns were heard (for now)… we can now carry on…

…nevermind, this doesn’t apply to China (whose rate is at least 145% last time I checked… and so the concerns continue…

the thing about working from home

Being able to work without someone micromanaging you into a spiral is the kind of freedom that most millennials pray for. My Slack messages are minimal, my meeting schedule is light, and I have the autonomy to work on projects at the time that best fits my needs. It’s a beautiful thing… but it took a long time to get here.

Working from home changed my life. It enhanced my confidence. It pushed me to be uncomfortable.

Those who stand in their truth often stand out in a world that values conformity over uniqueness. The fact that I won’t accept jobs that have policies on hair styles & color, piercings, or provide adequate mental health benefits is just a few things that I’ve made folks roll their eyes over… and that’s fine.

After having a career where I was valued for what I brought to the table and not the way I looked, I decided long ago that I would not conform - I would not change my aesthetic to fit the mold of someone else’s. I’m in my 30’s - I want to experience my life on my terms while I can enjoy it (God willing).

Pushing the limits of your aesthetic does not have an age limit.

excerpt from Iced Matcha Resets

…and this is where I fucked around and found out that “stiff wig, soft life” is a thing… and I was teetering that line.

we were going through a lot of emotions... (visuals courtesy of the black side of Pinterest)

It’s not that I don’t care about how I present myself. I do. Probably more than I let on. But I’m also a former uniform kid who grew up to work uniform jobs. I learned early that blending in kept you out of trouble and conformity was the path of least resistance. To put it simply, I just wanted to grab my check and go!

Transitioning into Zoom calls with Hillman hoodies, oversized hoops, face piercings, and intentionally sipping from a mug that said, “feeling IDGAFish” felt like quiet the rebellion. I think that’s one of the main reasons I mourned that job so much when through that whole acquirement thing that startups tend to do.

To be able to show up as you are and on your terms was something I never experienced in my professional life. It was a nice feeling for your work and impact to be the focus.

But here’s the plot twist: sometimes, presentation does matter.

Not in the “respectability politics” way, because I still don’t give a damn if my hair reaches the skylight and is bright blue. Deal with it.

But in the sense that when you stop giving a fvck too hard, it starts to leak. Leak into your attitude, your energy, even your work. I guess you can say there’s a thin line between rebellious and avoidance.

You look up one day and you realize you have been living in a bonnet for two weeks, forgot how to put on lip liner, and outside clothes feel foreign.

the aesthetic: bare minimum baddie

The current state of the world made me realize I did so much better at showing up for myself when I felt I was being perceived. Ain’t that something? I spent my entire adult life praying not to be… and then I act like this.

There’s something about the pressure of potential observation that forces you to at least try. Somewhere to go, someone to possibly impress, liking what you see in the reflection of a store window.

If the mirror is the only audience you have that day, doesn’t that make the performance even more important?

And to be clear, this isn’t me saying I’ve let myself go… because when your girl steps outside, I still hit em with the one, two, and three with an oversized bag to match. BUT this is me saying that showing up for self can’t just be an “outside” thing. It has to happen inside too (figuratively and literally). Within the four walls. In the quiet moment. When no one’s looking. And most importantly… for you.

tariffs are cramping my new allegiance to style

…and so to circle on back to what brought together all of these thoughts.

TARIFFS.

As I fluffed out a wig from the stash, put on my new glasses from Zeelol (I am so late to the game but baby?! I feel a collection starting), and carefully put on some lashes… it hit me… how much is this level of maintenance about to cost now?!

…and before you hit me with the “girl, just go natural” - I say this with a tinge of (dis)respect: NO.

{feel free to read my story here}

our hair tells a story sometimes we just need to listen to it.

The thing that’s really mess with me is how this tariff shift is highlighting how self-development in the form of basic care, clarity, and even consistency has started to feel like an unaffordable luxury.

I’m not talking about self-care upgrades like 5-star hotel stays and vacations that are filled with light blue skies and white sand (we deserve that too)… but being able to get your hair done without checking your account three times. Getting multiple pair of glasses without spending $500+ dollars (because without the lens upgrade your lenses would be thicker than the original class on a Coke bottle).

Sure, some of this is also coming from the harsh realization that I’m a girl mom with three daughters, two entering the materialistic phase of teenage evolution. But even still, they deserve to evolve into their best self without checking the version they want to become is financially feasible.

the era of big mama is deeply missed (visuals courtesy of the black side of Pinterest)

I’m also aware that a lot of this means going back to our roots and community. Circa you walking down the block and seeing your friend getting her hair done on the porch, laughing at her pain but knowing your doomsday is Saturday evening so you can be ready for Sunday morning. Picking up the sewing machine and designing those one-of-a-kind pieces like grandma use to do (y’all know she use to be SHARP!).

But even then, materials cost. Everything feels taxed (even before the looming tariffs).

what are we actually working towards?

If the most we can hope for is survival with a side a struggle, then wtf are we striving for? What do we even dream about? The dream should have progressed by now.

Because now? Even the thought of living check-to-check feels hard to catch.

I am grateful.
Grateful that I’m in a position to have a job + work remotely.
Grateful that I’m able to process these thoughts with a functioning brain (thanks, Zoloft), stable internet, and an upgraded MacBook I absolutely busted my ass to buy.

To be in a two-income household, to have the space to think, write, and create - that’s privilege. I don’t take that lightly.

But it’s also not lost on me that we’re one major setback away from flipping the table.
A reissue of the pandemic feels mighty close.

Most of us aren’t asking for excess.
We’re just asking for enough.
Enough room to grow. Enough peace to breathe.
Enough margin to feel like our lives belong to us.
To stop feeling like a continuously failed experiment.

So, yeah - this piece started with mourning the potential loss of a wig. But in this world where everything costs more than it should, that short video felt like a passive aggressive resistance, and I needed to allow myself the tantrum.

*pulls out debit card*

…cheers to tracking numbers, coupon codes, and a 90-day tariff rollback?! Oh, consumerism - you got me!

*insert deep sighs in black sarcasm*

---

quick notes:

Mental Munchies is the space where (I hope) random thoughts will at least flow and somewhere along the way, make sense. It is a lightly edited curation of chaos. With that said, sometimes it may be deep-ish, but that’s not the point. If you see typos… and don’t like typos… I’m sorry because there may be typos.

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