Colored Contact Lenses and Wigs

I absolutely love colored contacts and wigs. So far I only have a black pair and a blue pair of contacts, and one wig of my own - but I plan on getting more contacts in the near future.

I originally bought a wig for work, because I had bright blue - and very unprofessional - hair. I'm not fond of wearing wigs during the summer as it gets too hot, so I ended up re-dying my hair after a while so that I did not have to wear a wig.

As for colored contacts, I got my first pair (black) about four months ago, and recently invested in a vibrant blue pair. I love wearing contacts because they make me feel like I am an entirely different person. I can change the color of my eyes to fit my mood, how I wish to portray myself, and what I want to see in the mirror. Sometimes I even wear a different color in each eye.

My own wig and blue contacts.

In my friend's turquoise wig and my own black contacts (My friend Cassidy on the left).

In my friend Cassidy's green wig, with my own black contacts.

In my vibrant blue contacts.

A close up of my eye with a black contact lens in.

I would like to get, within the next year, a yellow pair, a pale grey-blue pair, and a vibrant green pair of contacts. The only problem is that they are very expensive - or at least I think that they are. There are cheaper brands, of course, but I don't quite trust them.

Bleached Eyebrows

In 2009, while browsing the internet, I laid my eyes upon the most beautiful model in the entire world - Ranya Mordanova. I was immediately and emotionally affected by the structure of her face - her hair - her lips - her brows. Everything about her was (and still is) an aesthetic masterpiece. My favorite look of her's is still from 2009, when she walked for Givenchy. It was also the first time I ever saw somebody with dark hair and bleached eyebrows - a striking combination which fell in love with and which I envied.

Years later, I ended up watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in theatres with a friend - Rooney Mara reminded me so much of Ranya with her hair, brows, and facial structure. She was absolutely beautiful as Lisbeth. It was after watching that movie that I finally made the decision to bleach my eyebrows (despite the warnings and lectures I received and read about the risks involved).

From left to right: Ranya Mordanova, Myself, and Rooney Mara as Lisbeth.

The first time I bleached my brows, I almost didn't recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. I saw somebody whom I felt was more beautiful, more confident looking. Naturally I have very dark brows, so it was quite a change. Within a couple of months they return to their original color, as hairs are always falling out, and growing. This means I need to bleach them every couple of weeks if I want to keep them looking blonde - but if I leave them for a bit longer then they start looking peppered, which is also interesting.

To bleach my eyebrows, I use Manic Panic Flashlightning 40 Volume. I buy a couple of boxes, and they last me quite a few months because I only mix as much as I need to cover my brows at a time. I then use a small brush (I use a hair clipper cleaning brush) to apply the mixture to my brows, making a "bleach unibrow". I make sure that the mixture is thick enough so that it will not drip into my eyes before applying it. I then leave it on for about five minutes before wiping it off and reapplying where needed, until all of the hairs are blonde. Once my brows are fully bleached, I wipe it off the mixture with a wet white cloth before applying lotion to the areas where the it made contact with my skin.

Aspergers and my First Real Job.

I am writing this because a lot of people do not understand what Aspergers is. As you read this, I would like you to keep in mind that every person diagnosed with Aspergers is different. My problems may not be the same as those of others, and vice versa. 

The first real job I ever had was at Burger King. I prepared for the interview - mapping out how I was going to sit and act, and what I was going to say. I sat on my hands while the interviewer spoke to me so that I would’t flap or bite them, and I tried my best to make eye contact. Actually, I just looked at their forehead - and it was one of the most uncomfortable things. Whenever I try and make eye contact my entire body feels like colored wire - like dry beans going through a cardboard tube.

I got that job, without telling them that I had Aspergers, and started how everybody starts - cooking burgers and toasting buns. Toasting buns was amazing - repetitive, and I loved how they felt when they came out. Like melted foam - and when I touched them, my hands and up my arms felt like warm steam was going through my veins. After a while, though, it felt like my arms were turning into the texture of rubber and I began to dread touching them.

Cooking the meat was more difficult. There were too many things to do, I had to read charts (I’m terrible at reading certain charts) and there was a strict time limit. They would need a certain meat, by a certain time.

Not only that, but I could hardly concentrate on toasting the buns, let alone cooking the meat, because my mind is always fixated on one or two things. At that time, it was arthropods and Green Day - and I would not/could not focus on anything else. I mindlessly worked while focusing on the mathematics, facts, and complexities of my fixations while everything else blurred and my body simply moved. I still work like this - never really focusing my eyes on anything as I move about.

People would speak to me and I would not understand what they were trying to say. They seemed to be speaking in riddles, and I would need time to decipher them through intensive research when I got home.

And it was loud. I could hear everything all at once, one sound piling up on top of another until it was a tower of sound. The fluorescent lights, the beeping of all of the machines, the hum of the freezers, the speaking of the other humans in the building, the typing, the register, the phone, the boiling of the oil… I could go on.

Almost every day, after a certain amount of time, my brain would shut down. It would become harder to move - my functioning being pulled deep within my mind until I was simply a flesh-shell around my consciousness. I would lose my ability to focus my eyes, to speak. I would scratch and chew on my hands, and I remember standing in the back, smashing my head on the crates. All of my limbs would be green and orange wire. People would ask me what was wrong, and I would be unable to tell them. I was simply stand there, rocking back and forth, looking ahead, plugging my ears. Watching TV. Watching Ren and Stimpy in my head. And I would mutter the lines. I would do mathematics. What else am I to do when I am trapped within my mind?

Sometimes it was different. Sometimes on top of all this, I would somehow make my way over to a wall and sit because my entire body would tense. Rocking, shaking, trying to breath.

Being unable to function is one of the scariest things.

I ended up quitting because I was simply a burden - a problem - and they could not legally fire me. I had gotten them into this mess, and I was the one who released them from the responsibility. I have, since then, learned new coping skills and found a quieter and less hectic job where people accept me and where I do well.