I Dyed My Hair Blonde and I'm Not Sure How I Feel About It
Why is so much of my identity tied up in my hair?
GOOD MORNING,
It's the last week of summer camp at school for the kids, and somehow that feels both totally impossible and exactly right. The summer is already flying by, which is par for the course these days.
We spent the weekend out at the farm, which always include slow mornings, eggs and bacon for breakfast, and, lately, a lot of time on the trampoline. We went to the river just down the road from the farm and played in the freezing cold water. The kids could have stayed there the entire day. I read my book on a blanket by the bank, which I am thisclose to finishing (finally).
For dinner, PJ grilled cheeseburgers on the back deck at Holiday House, and I made a garlic aioli. The sunset was stunning. The kids were laughing and running around playing. It was one of those weekends that felt like a deep breath. We even snuck away for a movie- 28 Years Later (highly recommend if you're into post-apocalyptic chaos with a bunch of naked zombies running around), and I stayed up way too late last night watching PJ play video games, which, honestly, was kind of comforting.
Anyway, we’re easing into Tuesday with that sun-drenched, waterlogged, one-foot-still-in-the-weekend kind of feeling. Here’s what’s on our minds as we head into the week, and a few things worth knowing, loving, and passing along.
We just restocked PJ’s favorite under eye masks: the Grace & Stella ones that fix everything from dark circles to “stayed up too late again” puffiness. They’re cooling, cruelty-free, and genuinely magic.
I’ve always wanted to dye my hair blonde.
Growing up, people thought my hair was black. And it looked black, really it did. PJ Still swears it was. But I always knew it was just a very dark brown. I would compare it to my mom’s hair, which is jet black, and when I did, you could clearly see a difference. Hers was black, mine was a very dark brown.
All of that to say, my hair has always been dark, and I have always been more or less okay with that. I put a lot of time and attention into my hair; the way it looks, the way it feels, and how I feel about myself when it’s styled a certain way. To be honest, I hate how much weight and importance I give something so fleeting and temporary as the hair on my head, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am.
Which is why, when I finally took the plunge and dyed my hair blonde last week, after years of going back and forth, it felt like a big deal. I know that probably sounds trivial, but the truth is, my hair matters to me more than I’d like to admit. The way I look (and the way PJ looks, too) is directly tied to our work. We are the brand. There’s no big name or legacy media company to hide behind. Just us, our faces, and what we’ve built. So yeah, it’s just hair…but also, it’s not just hair.
But putting business aside and looking at it from a personal angle, I also feel the best about myself when my hair is longer, curlier, and just a little unruly. Our boys ask why I like my hair “messy” and why they can’t wear theirs the same (we make them brush their hair every morning before school). I tell them I didn’t realize my hair was “messy”, it’s just how I’ve worn it for the last 20+ years. And it’s how I feel most confident and when I feel the most like myself.
After finally talking myself up to it, I made an appointment and went downtown to get my hair done. Only, it didn’t turn out at all how I hoped: