Every summer, my hairdresser and I take my hair more blonde. It’s just what we do. We bring it up for the summer sun and then tone it down for the winter. Still blonde. Always blonde. It’s what I’ve been doing for over 10 years.
Now that the summer months are approaching, it was time to kick it up a notch, as usual. This time, though, it felt a little different. Not in a bad way, just in a real way. I hadn’t cut my hair since before my mom passed. I liked maintaining long hair. But lately, I’ve been feeling like I needed a change.
My hairdresser has told me before that when someone comes in wanting something drastic, especially if they’ve been consistent with their look, it usually means something else is going on. So he asks questions. He tries to understand what’s behind it.
I knew I wanted a change, but I let the idea of cutting my hair sit with me. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t reacting without thinking. The problem was, I didn’t really know what my reason was.
The Likely Reason
I’m still grieving the loss of my mom. I miss her every day. Wanting to cut my hair was definitely tied to that.
My hairdresser knows I hang onto my Blonde Asian-ness hard, so I was a little surprised that when I brought up cutting my hair, he was supportive. He’s experienced loss too, and he knows me well enough to read between the lines.
We ended up talking on the phone, and he told me he felt like I needed this. It didn’t have to be drastic, just intentional. I mean, my hair was basically down to my ass crack, so anything was going to feel dramatic.
After that call, I felt a lot better about the decision.
Making the First Cut
When I got in the chair, the first thing he did was cut my hair.
Years ago, a random hairdresser I was smoking a cigarette with at a party told me that he never cuts long Asian hair wet. This was before I was blonde, but it stuck with me. He said wet hair stretches, and with long hair, he wants to see the true length.
So when my hairdresser started cutting my hair dry, I wasn’t worried. If anything, I was a little relieved knowing we weren’t going to go through a ton of product first.
I don’t know exactly how much he cut off, but it had to be around 8 to 10 inches. My hair still reads as long, but to me, it felt like a lot.
In a good way.
I felt lighter almost immediately.
The Normal Part
I’ve been wearing a lived-in blonde for a while now. I’ve done full scalp bleach in the past, but we both knew we weren’t going back to that.
Instead, we used hair color to lift my roots and blend them into the rest of my blonde. This was our first time doing it this way, so it took about as long as a normal appointment.
We had talked about adding highlights afterward, but it was already a long day, so we decided to save that for next time.
Both my hairdresser and my boyfriend said this is their favorite version of me blonde.
It was weird not seeing bleach being mixed, but I’m really happy with how it turned out. I still look like myself. I still feel like myself.
I just also feel like I let something go.
And honestly, it’s not lost on me how rare it is to have both your boyfriend and your hairdresser care about something like this and celebrate it with you.
Conclusion
I know hair doesn’t biologically hold trauma. But it does hold identity. It holds versions of me, and I carry it with me everywhere. Even though I was comfortable with how I looked before, sometimes you need to shake things up. Not to avoid something, but to mark a shift.
I think the biggest thing I learned from this is that if your gut is telling you something, you don’t have to act on it blindly. You can slow down, talk it through, and find a version of that change that makes sense.
If you’re going through something and feel the urge to cut your hair, maybe just take a second and ask yourself why. You might still do it. Just differently.
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