Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

For a few weeks, I have considered dying my hair darker. On Friday night, in the company of a good friend, a beer, and a bowl of brunette hair dye, I finally did it.

I was overwhelmed saying goodbye to one of the few constants in my life. I was a toe-head from the day I arrived. From the beginning. And the hugeness of separating from that to be something new and different was terrifying. I shed a few tears, but assured Mary Beth I didn't want to stop. She didn't put the brush down. And here I am.

I feel new.  

One of the main reasons I put it off so long was because I was worried people would think I was having a Brittany moment and in my insane haze had colored my hair in the same way she'd shaved her head and attacked a car with an umbrella.

And if I can be frank, the truth isn't far from that. But instead of it being a symptom of a downwards spiral, it was actually the opposite: controlling and righting a tailspin. If you've been following my real life for the past few months, you might recall my September of Sorrow where I stripped a whole bunch of shit away and collapsed in on myself like a dying star. Since then, I've enjoyed the rebuilding process. It's been chaos and discovery and acceptance and joy. For the first time in my life, I feel integrated within myself.

And as I discovered more of myself, I found that my blonde hair just didn't fit anymore.

I think a lot of people see me as a sunny and upbeat person. I am on some days, sure. I love to play and have fun and laugh. But those feel like responses to actions, not my own natural state. Not how I experience myself. And if you don't see that, then I regret to inform you that you've been a victim of a lie I have lived well. The script calls for an unflappably positive person who doesn't need help and can't be knocked down. A person who has some key catchphrases including "Everything's good" and "I'm fine". The more agitated I am internally, the more likely I am to be smiling on the outside. It's really fucking annoying.

And that's what my blonde hair had become to me. It was part of this role I was playing. It was the "happy" disguise. There's just something about a blonde that doesn't say "I'm serious." To me it seems happy-go-lucky and lighthearted. Maybe it's a stereotype, but I bought into it. And that's not me. I feel so much more at home with dark hair. Like I LOVE it.

It may be a superficial thing to change, but that understates what's really going on. It IS important. It's the skin I have to live in all the time and I wholeheartedly believe that the outside should match the inside. I did this so you will understand me more and we can start talking.

And because it was much cheaper than getting this tattoo: