we’ve sixteen years been together

It’s late. We’re finishing a Netflix episode and out of nowhere I say, I’m thinking about cutting my hair. I glance up to a funny look from my beloved. This man will say exactly what he thinks of my fashion choices, such as the neon clogs. But he rarely offers commentary on the parts of me that are attached to my body. He is a wise man.

Isn’t this the trope of women everywhere? Aren’t we always thinking about cutting our hair? Consider the cut, take the risk, lament and grow it out? This is our process. Let us be.

I’m aware that I carry my weight in my face and we are headed into winter and I’ve made some questionable hair choices in the past and and and… Do you not want me to cut my hair? I ask.

This is tender territory, we both know. It’s my body and yet, he looks at it most. My husband hesitates and then…

I don’t mind if you cut your hair. It’s the highlights. I don’t like the highlights. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you. I think they age you. He gestures to his computer, where he is editing photos of our most recent adventure. His new camera can see through my pores and into my very soul. His new camera is a blessing and a curse.

I say nothing. I would prefer almost any critique to aged, but I won’t tell him that. I’m mostly embarrassed because I know he’s right. I hadn’t done anything with my hair in years; the new look felt a bit off from the moment I had it done on vacation several weeks ago. It wasn’t quite the look I’d pictured, but summer was here and I was ready for a change. I should’ve known we’d missed the mark when an older coworker asked if I’d gotten my hair frosted.

I say nothing. Instead, I thank my husband for the feedback. We finish our show. We go to bed.

The following night, I buy a box of dye at the grocery store and gently tone out the blonde pieces, in the quiet secret of the half bathroom downstairs. The box dye has given me the look I wanted all along. I have almost the same hair color as my kids, which has always been the goal. I go to bed triumphant and wake up victorious.

My husband does not notice.