It’s Never Just Hair

“It’s so different when you change your hair colour, you’re treated so differently. It’s a very funny experience.”

― Kate Bosworth

When I look back at the camera reel of my phone I can quite clearly see all the stages of my life and the journey I have been on just by looking at my hair.

From confident, to curious, to frustrated, to confused, to sad and seeking — my hair is a beacon of my self-esteem, an outward indicator of my internal barometer.

I read a quote the other day that said “If a woman cuts her hair, change is about to happen” and I think the same can be said for a switch in colour too.

I grew up in a small town in Wales with a group of friends who were all hairdressers, may I just add drop-dead gorgeous hairdressers. Confident in dressing how they wanted to, with features like Pixar heroines, they knew exactly what to do with a set of make-up brushes and were continuously experimenting with their hair. These beautiful women could have been sisters, they all had a set of attributes that synchronised them and I flat-out felt like the ugly duckling in the middle.

It was the early noughties and we were very much living in the hangover of the previous decade. The decade that brought women heroin chic… just even saying it out loud now totally blows my mind. The style popularized in early-1990s fashion and characterized by pale skin, dark circles underneath the eyes, emaciated features, androgyny and stringy hair — all traits associated with abuse of heroin or other drugs.

Our party decade dropped the dark circles, stringy hair and androgyny and added a whole load of fake tan, hair extensions, very bright (and tight) Lipsy dresses and a high influx of plastic surgery. None of my attributes worked well in this era — pale, round, shaky with liquid eyeliner, Bambi in high heels and with no money for plastic surgery but I cracked on and we all lived for the weekend — every week a new outfit, new shoes and a new hairstyle.

From my recollections, the girls were always encouraging me to try something bigger but my insecurities didn't let me take the plunge too far, but I vividly remember the inside me dreaming to have the courage to be bolder.

Then when a best friend died in 2018, it was the cherry on the cake of a nine-year workathon and my brain fizzled out like the sad ending of a sparkler. I had hit the bottom and had to rebuild. My positive reframe was that I was going to have to go on an adventure to become my own best friend.

From July 2018 to December 2019 I counted up 19 different hair colour variations in the photos on my phone. That year and a half I went on the biggest journey down into the depths of myself and at each stage, I played ever so slightly with my hair. Throughout the course of those pictures, I can visibly see my growth, up until the point I took the plunge for a colour I coveted for years — bright yellow.

The yellow phase of me was the longest of my colour experiments, taking me all the way up to November 2022. It was unusual, daring, brave and bold — I had to dig deep to be confident in places where it stood out and I had to spend the time and money to keep on top of it. I had to be dedicated to something — something about me — something I wasn’t used to doing.

People would stop in the street to compliment it, sometimes stopping to talk for long periods of time — the yellow was a conversation starter — it made people smile.

I made a lot of human connections, the keeper in my local shop started to shout “Hello Sunshine!” when I came in, and the friendly employee at the local Tesco told me (every time he saw me) he would wear his yellow turban soon, kids whispered to their mums “Wow she has yellow hair! REAL yellow” Old ladies told me stories of the colours they wish they had been brave enough to try or the ones they had been, our local busker always switched up his set mid-song to ‘You are my sunshine’ whenever he saw me, middle-aged women talked to me about wishing to be braver with their natural greys and I completed some of the biggest and bravest work I’ve ever done during that time.

It turns out that sunny-coloured hair makes for sunny dispositions — it makes people feel safe to connect and brightens their day. The most surprising part of the colour of my hair wasn’t just how brave it made me be but how massively enriched it made my life feel.

I managed to keep my yellow hair all the way through my pregnancy and postpartum, in a phase of life in which I was so afraid of how things would change, it stayed the same. The journey throughout my pregnancy was an adventure; I started in the afraid mode but ended up feeling proud of myself, the changes and my body. I dug really deep in my mind and worked really hard to get myself to the place of being able to confidently birth our baby in the kitchen of our home.

In the hazy months after our baby was born the question raised itself again, should I change my hair?

In some ways 2018 and 2022 have felt the same — They say that when a baby is born so is a mother, and there certainly is a period on the other side when you grieve the life you had before, you get broken open and slowly from inside the cocoon of the hazy days and nights your interim version emerges.

Part of my apprehension of new motherhood was the changes, but what I hadn’t fully appreciated was the internal tussle I would have with becoming.

Becoming a mother is so many things but ultimately it is a version of you that you weren’t before and the old version of you doesn’t want to give themselves up without a slight fight — and we have fought.

Everything about my being felt the same but so very different, not in a bad way but in a deeper, quieter, free-floating way — yet again at the start of a new adventure to dig deep and rebuild.

Every time I looked in the mirror the yellow no longer resonated — I made the decision (for now) to just be. Be, with all the foundations I made whilst in the boldness of yellow but just a little bit outwardly quieter.

In making that decision I felt a sense of strength in being brave enough to change and to accept a period of quiet but on the morning of the appointment, I text my friend (a mother of four) that I was wobbling about my decision.

Trying to make me feel better she replied: “I think we need to detach from the emotion here — It’s just hair” to which I replied “That’s a lie — it’s never just hair” after a slight pause to contemplate, she replied “Agreed”

Because let’s face it, it really never is “Just hair”