Last week, I changed my hair, pretty drastically, at least for me. My whole life I've been blonde (whether natural as a child or bleached in my later teens years and beyond) except for a short stint as a redhead, so this change has been harder to get used to than any other cut or color.
My hairstylist, Jill, is amazing, and I think she does great work (especially the magic she works on Connor while he's screaming not to have his hair cut), and I think the color looks good, but I still look in the mirror sometimes and don't recognize myself.
My hair already feels healthier and is shinier, and while I think I'll probably go lighter in the spring with some highlights, I believe my days of being uber-blonde are over...even though I've always felt like I should be blonde, my hair is getting darker and darker on its own, especially since having Connor. Regardless, I think I'll always still feel most comfortable and most "me" as a blonde. It's just my comfort zone.
Anyway, all that to say, my physical traits don't make me who I am, but I never anticipated that a hair color change would bring about so many thoughts, emotions, and insecurities.
So, here's the result: