Boyfriend jeans: ZARA. (these are great too.) Top: JCrew Factory (on sale!) Shoes: Nine West. (similar.) Bag: Anne Klein (similar.) Watch: Michael Kors.
So, once upon a time, the Saturday before Mother’s day. I went to the salon. It had been approximately 9 months since my last trim, and my hair was basically screaming for some TLC. I often put off trips to the salon, because in all honesty I’ve had a lot of traumatic haircuts. Saturday’s turned out to be one of them. Here’s how it went down. I went in to the salon for a trim, a shine treatment and long side-swept bangs. We’re talking low cheek, chin type grazing barely bangs. When I was done, my hair was black, and I had bangs chopped to my eyebrows. I don’t even know how that happened. I hyperventilated my way out of the salon after telling the girl that the color was really dark and her reassuring me that it would in fact, fade. Well, I bought the cheapest color stripping type shampoo I could find, washed my hair at least 15 times, and it turns out that my hair did not in fact, fade. It basically looked like a wig. A strange ode to Joan Jett type wig. The thing is, I hate confrontation. Especially awkward, “you broke my hair and you need to fix it,” confrontation. I get all clammy and nervous and I’m like, “I’ll just deal with it, or go to someone else…” but this one was really bad, so I actually acted like a real grown up, called the salon first thing Monday morning and told them my hair needed to be fixed. (side note: I can thank my business for teaching me how to handle confrontations like this.) Anyways, two stripping treatments, highlights and a toner, plus a “do what we can to clean it up” haircut later, this is my hair. And it’s much much better than it was the other day, but I’m not going to lie, it doesn’t feel like me. While my hair is now brown instead of black, it’s still quite a bit darker, and the bangs, they are definitely going to take some getting used to.
The weird thing for me, is realizing how much it effected me– this whole bad haircut, that can’t be undone thing. And I realized that my hair has become a physical crutch for me. I used to despise my hair, and honestly I don’t blame myself, it was big and frizzy and embarrassing, right in that awkward, round faced, braces time of high school, and I had no idea how to manage my thick head of hair. But then I grew up. I bought myself an expensive straightener, I discovered Moroccan oil. (game changer.) And suddenly, this hair that had always been my bane started looking really nice, and it was thick and long and really fun. It was one of those places where I felt good and confident. Walking out of the salon that day; all the things I really loved about my hair ruined, I realized just how much I had placed my physical confidence in my hair. How much it had become part of my identity. Maybe that’s true for all women, or maybe, because I almost never do anything drastic with my mane, it’s just me. But I’m kind of betting that we all have a physical crutch we kind of lean on, and I was thinking about just how unnerving it can be when that crutch goes away. Anyways, I don’t really know where I’m going with this, except to ask you all what it is that you lean on physically?
Also, I realize my posting has been dismal as of late. I am up to my eyeballs in kickstarter production (wahoo!) and we’ve been busy with soccer and wrapping up the kid’s school year. Life is good.
ps. we’re going to be releasing pre-orders for our kickstarter designs later today, so stay tuned, because the numbers are limited.
xo,
Cori
