Boldness was calling. My long blond ends were my hair default, my security blanket since 2019. At that point, I'd been planning my upcoming nuptials — focused more on my bridal beauty look than my crumbling relationship. My Pinterest boards overflowed with "retro regal" inspiration — a lemony Grace Kelly bun that morphed into a Bardot ponytail. Fast-forward to 2025, six years later: That wedding never happened, yet I still clung to the credence that long hair meant variety; long hair meant sexy. You can pile it high into a Dolce & Gabbana updo or slick it into a Hailey Bieber bun. I felt that way until a week before my 40th birthday this past February, when I saw a photo of myself. The broken hair was obvious. My strands bore the scars of six years of bleach. It was doing nothing for me — not flattering a single feature, it was just . . . there. That's when the vision struck – what about a chin-grazing chop? |
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