Free As My Hair

I’ve always wanted to go blonde.  All my life I’ve
dreamt of having long and luscious blonde locks

like Barbie, Sleeping Beauty, and Courtney Love (in that order). Lady Gaga preached to us about how we are as free as our hair, reminding us that our hair can be our liberation. There is no physical pain when it’s cut, and yet sometimes a dramatic haircut can be the equivalent of slicing out our heart. The connection to our hair can run deep, and it wasn’t until a few months ago in which I truly learned about that effervescent connection one has with their hair.  

I spontaneously made a hair appointment with my stylist, Jessie,  without any real idea as to what I wanted. I woke up that morning still unsure about what I was going to do; I just knew I wanted a change. I could feel it in my soul. I had been feeling this chaotic force within me. A force that unwaveringly controlled my every act of Vanity. Only I didn’t know what it was until I sat in the styling chair and began to explain what I wanted.

I wanted the dramatics. All blonde everywhere.  Give me that Gwen Stefani realness and make it so that I’m only one cigarette away from looking like a trashy piece of high class trash on planet sass. I was born with a constant need for theatrics; the more dramatic, eclectic, and sassy, the better. Although long black hair is what weird little girls are made of, my soul needed a change. My time pretending to be Cher was over (I know she went through a blonde phase, but that does not count!), and it was time to evolve into another version of my self. 

4 hours and countless rinses later and I finally got to see the masterpiece my lovely and talented stylist had worked so hard to achieve.

I was in absolute shock.

It’s everything I’ve ever imagined, but oh my God.

It was blonde.

As she blow dried my hair, the blonde got lighter and my heart beat got faster. She styled it perfectly, gave me some tips and product recommendations, and I was on my merry little way. I got in the car and looked in the rear view mirror, and that's when it hit me.

I was a different person.  And it terrified me. I was going to go grocery shopping before I drove home, but I was so afraid to show myself to the world, as I didn’t even recognize the person staring back at me.  As I drove out of the parking garage and on to the street, the adrenaline rushed all throughout my new blonde soul. I guess I wasn’t mentally prepared for the change, and oh was it a change.

In that moment, I realized that the hair on my head is as equally important as, say, my left arm. It’s function may not have the significance, but without it, I would have a difficult time functioning. My hair is a part of my soul. It’s the innovation and execution of how I envision myself, and the execution of one's being is something that we should never overlook.

I'm pretty sure going blonde is the exact equivalent of dying as Snow White and then being reincarnated as Tinkerbell. That sassy little fairy will die unless you clap for her, which is exactly what this hair color has done to me. At first I thought I was getting more attention from being blonde. But I've realized that I'm just demanding it a lot more, as confidence comes with being a fairy.

My prayer for all of you is to find your liberation through your style. Whether it's through your hair color, the clothes you wear, the tattoos on your body, or the shade of lipstick that best connects to the color of your soul. Freedom is found through self creation. We just have to be brave, and find the strength to live out our vision.

Thank you for listening.

Xo

G