Lattice Headband – Crochet Pattern

 

This comfy headband can be crocheted very quickly. For mine, I’ve used a gold yarn (Yarn Bee Hint of Silk) in a weight of 4 (though it seems to be on the thinner side of 4).

ch = chain
sc = single crochet
hdc = half double crochet
dc = double crochet

ch 36 plus multiples of 6 until the chain fits around your head snugly
ch 1, turn

First Row

sc 6, hdc 6, dc 6
*ch 3, skip the next 3 stiches, dc 3*
repeat * until there are 18 stitiches left of the chain
dc 6, hdc 6, sc 6
ch 1, turn

Second Row

sc 6, hdc 6, dc 6
*dc 3, ch 3, skip the next 3 stitches*
repeat * until there are 18 stitches left of Row 1
dc 6, hdc 6, sc 6
ch 1, turn

Third Row

[Same as First Row]
Additional rows can be added by alternating the First and Second Rows

 

Finishing

At the last sc of the last row, place the headband edges together and sc down the seam
Tie the ends together and weave the ends into the headband

Loving Yourself

new library

So, I started reading. I never read as a child…well correction, I read for school activities and classes. I probably read a handful of books (Goosebumps) just for fun. Perhaps there are a few books slipping through the cracks of my mind. In high-school, reading was the last thing that I was interested in doing. I saw so many other girls around my age enjoying books before class or even during class. I heard people discussing books and fangirling about them all. I even would criticize others who were into reading, like it was “conformist” and shameful. Meanwhile I kept my attention focused on the drama of high-school, on immature boys, and my appearance…none of which mattered.

So why is this titled “Loving Yourself”…I’m writing about books. What do books have to do with loving yourself?! Well quite a lot, see. You read fiction to escape and to enjoy (unless you are an English major maybe?). I didn’t let myself escape. I forced myself to constantly over-think and analyze people and myself. I wouldn’t do hobbies much either. But now, with a good book in hand, I let myself escape. There is no point in denying myself anymore. Maybe you’ve noticed too; there are things you love and are dying to do again, but you just…don’t. And you don’t have a reason for it, not a good one.

This is my confession. I wasn’t a reader, because I thought staying on the phone with my then-boyfriend for 5 hours was somehow more productive than doing something I liked. Somehow I would be happier and get everything I ever wanted if I looked a certain way and if I could control how others saw me. Instead of escaping into a world of wizards and magic, I cried like a desperate victim on the couch. I let my emotions over-run everything else in my life, including grades and relationships. I let it happen. Rather than being a victim, I was the assailant.

There is something I envy about those shy girls in high-school who read and fangirled. It didn’t seem to matter to them what the most popular brand of clothes was, or who was dating who, or even if there was a guy that liked them. They looked so balanced, so free from the heavy load of emotion that I carried. They seemed so mature, in ways that I am just now beginning to understand. It has taken nearly 10 years for me to reach this point and pick up a fiction novel. And I find myself feeling 14 again, trying to set things right.

Sadly, I didn’t speak to these girls much, but I’m sure they were awesome. I never saw them fighting with each other. They were just best friends, and kept to each other, but never in a stuck up way. If given an opportunity to redo my high-school years, and perhaps even my middle-school years, I would have done so as a book worm, just like these girls. I would have shied away from expensive brand-name clothes, computer games, dating, and drama. I would have read more, about everything, but most importantly fiction. I would have took up my favorite hobbies like crocheting, and did them on the bus to and from school. I would have laughed at guys hitting on me and buried my face back into my book. I would have cared more about my health, and I never would have starved myself to be thinner. As a teenager, I would have treated my parents with the respect that they deserved and actually told them how I felt, rather than crying.

There are so many “I would have”s but, honestly it doesn’t matter much now. I can never go back, and that is perfectly fine with me. I am still alive, and I still have plenty to live for. I can still be that balanced bookworm, who really–honestly cares about herself. There is absolutely no one who can tell me that I can’t go kayaking on Sundays or spend all weekend reading in my pajamas. I don’t have to deny myself 8 hours of sleep or stress about homework. I have the freedom to go to the gym every day of the week if I wanted. And yet, I still notice that I have been denying myself the simple pleasures, like a book.

I’m happy to say that I’ve read two books this past week, and I have bought several more. It’s never too late to be the person you want to be. Cheers.