Like a Mother F*cking Boss

My confidence started slipping out of my fingers seven years ago. It had left the entire upper part of my body a year later. By the next year, all that was left was a tiny drop in my pinky toe. I was a tattooed, vibrant haired, loud as hell mother who’d shriveled into some scared little thing.

It was pathetic. I can say that now.

As soon as that tiny drop of confidence started growing, so did a tiny human. And another. Back to back. I was healing mentally, growing my family physically, and in my first solid, healthy relationship. But I still wasn’t me. I was a wife. I was a mother. I was these two wonderful things that I’ll never turn my back on or regret becoming. But I still wasn’t me.

Over the last few months, I started reemerging. I turned my love of fitness into a career. I stopped cringing when I looked in the mirror. My personality started getting stronger until I felt comfortable making a physical change that expressed how I felt inside:

I died my hair purple like a mother fucking boss.

There’s something about a woman with purple hair that makes you take notice – and it isn’t just the color. It’s an inner vibrancy that seeps out of every pore. It’s contagious. It’s happy. It’s everything that life tries to beat out of us. 

And right now, it’s me.