On a whim last week I decided I wanted to do something different with my hair.
Chopping it off is not an option.
I’m trying to grow it again and have been fighting the urge to splurge on extensions for months.
One of Tarryn’s friends is a hairdresser, and at the very least, I wanted the colour refreshing so I could start growing it out over the summer with the aims to strategically snip away at it, heading back towards natural hair.
I’d seen some old snaps on Facebook and was pining for my long auburn hair and curls again.
I know that auburn is probably never going to happen again now I live in a country with more sunshine, and I’ve noticed my roots are slowly getting blonder.
So I thought, fuck it.
I ended up being stupidly late for work because the pink was a last minute find.
As I bowled in to work, I was hoping no one would notice, but it felt like I was greeted with whoops and Rihanna jokes.
I hadn’t told Zac what I’d done, but figured he usually loves anything I do with my hair/body (within reason), so it would be amusing to video his reaction.
It wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for and his initial response (off camera) was that he hated it. It was too dark and he wished I’d not had it done.
He said he liked the pink when it was “Oooh, she’s blonde with a bit of pink in her hair, not just pink.”
He liked the suggestion and seduction, an invitation to imagine I have an edgier side, but I can still be respectful and tuck it away on demand.
I was gutted.
I loved it and I’d had so many compliment that day about my hair it really boosted me up and I was feeling great.
And…me again. I know I’m weird and I know I don’t have to express that through body modifications, but I do feel more myself again when I’ve got funky shit going on with my hair.
The one thing I LOVE about Melbourne is I’ve never felt judged for my appearance. I’ve been to job interview with my hair all kinds of which ways, with feathers and blue and braids and undercuts and I’ve always felt judged for being me.
I got the job because of who I was, not how I looked.
That was never the case in the UK.
I still vividly remember that crushing feeling when I got back from Aus the first time, being turned down time and time again for the jobs I really wanted, that I’d really be good at given the chance, because I still had ‘creative’ hair.
I know I took it too personally, but it was one of those defining moments I remember pining to come home, to be back in Melbourne, where I felt the most myself I’d ever felt.
Change your hair, change your perspective, right?
We’re coming in to summer and I’m just ready to enjoy my first Christmas as an Aussie.
My first Christmas where I don’t have to worry about the next month, or the next year.
Our first Christmas, in our place, with our little family.