Saturday, July 13, 2013
Back in March, I made an appointment to have highlights put in my brown hair. My hairstylist had suggested that it might be fun to try something new, and I bit. I wanted a change, and highlights seemed the easiest solution.
I hated them.
After six weeks, when the hair was beginning to look brassy and my dark roots were showing through, I went back to the salon to confess that I didn't like what she'd done.
"Oh, it's just that you waited too long to come back," she said. "You really need to maintain these every four weeks or so."
Hm. I didn't think that was it. But I bit, again. I let her touch up the highlights, but this time with a toning product at the end that made the highlights blend in a bit more. The look was better, but still, I wasn't satisfied.
My life hadn't changed with the highlights, and somehow, I was expecting it to.
After one more highlighting touch up, just a few weeks ago, I went back to the stylist. This time I was firm. I wanted my old hair color back.
You see, I'd figured it out, why the highlights weren't doing it for me. It wasn't my hair that I wanted to change. It was my body. I wasn't -- and am not -- comfortable in my skin. But since making the decision on July 1st to fix this problem, to start eating mindfully and to get moving again, I feel better. Even if I've only lost a few pounds so far, feeling in control again is really what I desired.
It wasn't the hair I needed to change. It was me.