Some people skydive. Some turn to religion.

I changed my hair.

This habit started approximately two years ago when I was struggling with the worst of college relationships—the pseudo-boyfriend. You know him: you two keep it “chill,” hang out and hook up without the constraint of a title, and you can’t get jealous with any real justification, because you agreed on the untitled title.

This PBF had a tendency to keep his exes around (those who made the cut to fill the actual girlfriend position) and answer their calls at all hours. Including 4:00 in the morning, while sleeping next to me.

Bear in mind that my hair was long for over twenty years. We’re talking perfectly straight, volumeless blonde hair to my waist that guys beg you to keep. Hair that you can’t get back. Knowing this, I walked into the salon and firmly told my stylist what needed to be done.

“Chop it.”

I think she almost cried.

The PBF pretended not to notice that I had parted with over six inches. After that, I used it as a metaphor for cutting him out of my life.

After living as an almost-adult for a few months, I felt the need to commemorate my transition period. I noticed one day that my roots were coming in, and it hit me. Bye bye, blondie. I needed to go dark. Read More »