You know that feeling when your friends effortlessly switch their hairstyles while you’re stuck with the same look? Yep, that was me. My long, natural hair had morphed into more than just a style; it was a cornerstone of my identity. It broadcasted that I was both low-maintenance and feminine, traditional yet a little free-spirited. I was the type who wouldn’t follow the crowd off a cliff. The thought of changing my hair was daunting, as it felt like it would alter how people viewed me—and maybe even how I viewed myself.
Fast forward to me turning 40 this summer. That milestone number has this magical way of making you reevaluate everything. I’ve changed in countless ways, and suddenly, my hair felt like it was stuck in the past. So, after nearly 40 years of $15 trims every six months, I decided it was time for a real haircut.
With a clear vision in mind, I walked into the salon hoping for a dark red streak framing my face. It felt daring, a tiny rebellion against the norms I had adhered to for so long. But my sweet hairstylist gently steered me toward alternatives. “How about multiple streaks? And caramel might suit you better than red,” she suggested. Four hours and $120 later, I emerged with my dark hair transformed into a blend of blonde highlights.
My kids couldn’t have been happier, and my husband was all smiles. But me? I felt utterly miserable. I had intended for my hair to mirror my evolving self, but instead, I looked like a stranger. I decided to wait and see, posting a picture on social media. The 50 likes and 20 glowing comments were nice, but I wasn’t convinced. Maybe a good night’s sleep would change my mind.
That night, I had a bizarre dream—I was pregnant, and my transparent belly revealed a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Panic set in; she couldn’t possibly be mine! Nonetheless, everyone around me praised her beauty. Upon waking, my hair-dye-induced haze lingered as I trudged to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror confirmed it: I needed a change.
I immediately booked an appointment for that afternoon. The stylist wasn’t shocked to see me again. “I had a feeling you’d come back. Your hair looks lovely, but it just doesn’t feel like you, does it?” She was spot on. As much as I’d transformed lately, my highlighted hair didn’t reflect that growth. It did make me look polished and stylish—like I belonged to a gym I didn’t go to or a chic cosmetics store I could never afford. But it wasn’t me.
Thankfully, she graciously reverted my hair back to its original dark hue, free of charge. It felt like home again. Yet, if you catch the sunlight just right, there are hints of magenta and auburn streaks dancing through my hair. It’s a simple change, but it feels magical and bold—just like I feel inside.
This journey taught me that sometimes, embracing who you really are can be as easy as a haircut—or as complicated as a life change. If you’re considering a fresh start, check out resources like this one on IVF or fertility boosters to help you along the way. And if you’re curious about home insemination, this blog post offers some great insights!
Summary:
The author reflects on a transformative haircut experience at the age of 40, exploring the connection between hairstyle and identity. After an unexpected change that didn’t resonate with her true self, she returned to her original look, finding a balance of simplicity and magic that better represented her inner transformation.