Have you ever woken up and decided that you wanted to change your hair colour and style in an attempt to re-create who you are?

My latest Hairlemma (Hair Dilemma) moment occurred when I decided that I wanted to go back to blonde. I was excited to return to my light locks- I had been blonde my whole life and my transformation into a fiery redhead had occurred during a fleeting moment at the hairdressers, in which I had nervously flicked through magazines in an attempt to pick a colour that would help me decipher my emotional roller coaster of “Who the hell am I?” now that I was a mother.

But after six months or so of spending exuberant amounts of money and attempting a botched home job, I was ready to go back to blonde. Facebook kept reminding me of lost memories in previous years where I was apparently tanned, slim, sipping cocktails and happy- and the noticeable feature was my light blonde hair.

And that is where my little ole friend, Fear, decided to pay a visit.

“Red hair is who you are now- blonde hair is not going to make you wild and spontaneous again”

“You wanted red hair your whole adulthood and you finally took the plunge, why turn back now?”

“Red hair symbolizes your development from woman into a mother”

At what point did hair colour define who we are? As a woman, I had watched as fellow queens had dramatically changed their hair- almost as a warning to others that they were moving into a period of irreversible change and letting go of any emotional vulnerability that may had been hindering their life- all through the chop of the hair and stain of hair dye.

For myself, the decision to dye the locks red had teased it’s way through the multitude of emotional hiccups in my life; yet becoming a mother was the ultimate fuse to light the fire. The previous life altering moments in which I had almost taken the fiery plunge included an emotional evening which saw me downing tequila shots and sobbing into friends arms after seeing an long term ex kiss another. This ended with a call to hairdressers in the early hours of the morning still extremely intoxicated and gargling something along the lines of dying my hair red. Clearly sensing my emotional vulnerability she asked me to come in the salon to persuade me out of the disastrous decision to home job my hair. She delicately poured me some champagne and we settled with some inconspicuous red foils buried beneath my blonde and a fringe cut. The change had been enough to inspire my inner goddess to take charge and before I could blink I had made the life altering decision to volunteer in an orphanage in Africa.

The Hairlemma moment had struck again. And I’ve realized, that no matter what your insecure or scared self says, the Hairlemma moment can literally change your life.

Whether it’s when you try to leave the inconsiderate, slightly psychopathic asshole of a man and your mind decides to play re-runs of the oh so happy days or when you decide to quit your job and wander through beautiful cities, Hairlemma moments usually initiate the spark of change which ultimately leads to a bloody good life. So make the change. Chop the hair. Dye the locks a crazy colour. And find the confidence you need to enjoy this beautiful thing we call life.