Breaking Up with Blonde

This snapshot is from the salon chair: foils, iced cap, and the moment I officially broke up with blonde. That's right – after a lifetime of highlights, I decided to go brunette.

Maybe it’s my impending birthday, maybe it was just time. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about this for ages. The only (slightly unhinged) thing holding me back? A giant piece of custom art by Mitch McGee in my apartment based on me… and she’s blonde. You could probably read into that, about how tied I’ve been to blonde as part of my identity. Or maybe I just didn’t want to clash with my own wall art.

What I didn’t expect: how much lighter I’d feel leaving the salon with darker hair. It felt less like changing my look and more like letting go of a version of myself I’d been holding onto. Apparently all it took was darker hair to make everything else feel brighter. And it’s a big change physically, sure. But the part that feels the most monumental is realizing it wasn’t really about the blonde at all, but about giving myself permission to change.

Also, if you’re thinking about making a dramatic hair change, just know you are going to have to talk about it with every. single. person. you. see. in. your. daily. life. But you should totally do it anyways.