Part 2: Hair Day - A Story About Hair Colour, Identity and Defiance
A postponed hair-dye day after a night on the dancefloor becomes a lens for examining identity, ADHD, and the long-term commitment behind visible self-expression. This piece moves from club lights to bleach bowls, unpacking the discipline, chaos, and intention required to remain unapologetically oneself.
From Dancefloors to Dye Bowls
Monday was supposed to be my hair-dye day. Brian was off work and offered to do my "colour top up". But we are doing it today (Wednesday, Thanksgiving Eve) instead because we went out this weekend to see Sara Landry headline TimeWarp NYC, and we're still exhausted.
While I don't think I'm too old to go out clubbing and dance all night, my body definitely feels it in some very old-person ways. It’s the kind of tired where you're on the stairs and think, not today, Satan.
My Hair Has Been Every Version of Me
I have dyed my hair since my mid-teens, going from my natural chestnut brown to the blondest blonde, the reddest red, and many variations in between.
I have also had some nightmare experiences and now only want to go to someone I trust implicitly, someone I don't have to give directions to, just the vibe, and they understand the assignment. The colour isn’t just about the aesthetics; it’s an extension of my identity.
Handing that over to someone who doesn’t “get it” feels like a violation.
Corporate Tried to Tone Me Down
While I worked in corporate leadership, my identity was forced into a smaller container - more cuts, less colouring. Blend in, look the part, be taken seriously.
As I stepped out of those spaces and into my own power, my hair came with me. In fact, my hair may have led the way.
My friend and stylist, Sharon Skelding, has been with me through these phases. When I told her I wanted my hair that mirrors blue hyacinths, nature's own gradient from pink-purple to rich, electric blue, she didn’t blink.
She simply said, “Let’s make it happen.”
The Commitment People Don’t See
And we did make it happen. Over four visits to England, we've double-processed my hair, pushing through highlights and colour, to a complete bleach-and-paint-the-rainbow transformation. Each time, my hair has become more vibrant, more unapologetic, and more me.
But this kind of hair? It’s a commitment.
8 hours in a chair
Chemistry and emotional regulation
Roots lifting faster than the ends
The physical logistics of hair architecture
You can’t just slap purple on and call it a day.
The Bleed. The Stains. The Chaos.
And then there’s the bleed. Fresh colour has opinions.
It leaves abstract art on hotel pillowcases.
Towels surrender immediately.
Getting caught in the rain means every light-coloured garment becomes a souvenir.
“Oh, did you just do a colour run?” - probably.
And, the maintenance? Frequent. Demanding. Expensive. NYC pricing means I DIY this part. I own professional tools. I read all of the instructions. ALL OF THEM. I watch the videos. I deep-dive the reviews. I prepare like a surgeon prepping for surgery, except the patient is me and the operation is my hair.
ADHD: The Ally & The Saboteur
My ADHD is a double-edged sword. It gifts me the impulsive courage to attempt these things in the first place, and the unwavering belief that I can. It gives me hyperfocus for the most finicky of tasks. If I need to sit still for eight hours with bleach on my head? Sure. No problem, I will scroll, snack, chat, and contemplate my entire life story in 4K. You need patience? ADHD has entered the chat.
The Miracle Is Not The Colour. It’s The Perseverance
But…and there’s always a but… my brain can also drop the baton mid-relay. Start-and-stop attention. “I’ll just take a break.” Suddenly it’s tomorrow. Sometimes it takes me three days to wax my legs because boredom wins, and television is shiny. And yes, that also means my hair dye often happens across multiple days. Foils, creams, brushes…and then I vanish like a magician halfway through the trick.
Still, even with the chaos, the perseverance is… kind of miraculous. There’s something deeply satisfying about succeeding at a task everyone assumes must go wrong.
Success for us dopamine chasers is sometimes as simple as just not f**king stuff up. Like, it might not be good, but it’s not that bad… success!
Three pictures of creatively coloured long hair, in shades of pink, blue, orange and purple. Hair Bleach, Creative Colours, and Cut by Sharon Skelding @SSaesthetics
There’s a spark in keeping the colour vibrant. There’s power in the ritual. There’s pride in the patience. I do all of this because my hair is not surface-level. It is identity. It is autonomy. It is devotion to my own authenticity. It is ritual and rebellion intertwined. Every hour spent bleaching, mixing, foiling, waiting; it's a commitment to who I am and who I refuse to stop being.
Corporate life tried to dim me. Uniformity tried to shape me. Norms tried to define me.
But:
I am not neutral.
I am not subtle.
I am not meant to blend.
My hair is my protest.
My hair is my permission slip.
My hair is my voice, before I even open my mouth.
So yes, I give eight hours of my life to maintain this colour, and the hours in between to keep it up. Because it represents something far more valuable and intentional: I am vibrant on purpose.
In Part 3, I explore what happens when visibility follows you into the world, how hair becomes conversation, connection, and sometimes a mirror held up by others.
To see more of Sharon's work, or book an appointment you can follow her social media at:
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ss_aestheticsxx?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igsh=ZDNlZDc0MzIxNw==
