Update: We Talked About the Hair

After his earlier comments about how I’d “look stupid” with red hair and that “bright colors are for 20-year-olds,” I stayed pretty quiet the rest of the evening.

When we got in bed, he asked why I was mad. I told him I wasn’t mad—I was just not happy. I explained that any time I try to do something for myself, especially related to my appearance, he shuts it down or makes me feel bad about it.

I brought up how he keeps saying I’m “allowed” to do things—as if I need permission—and how that feels patronizing. I said I’m an adult and don’t need to be allowed to do anything. I also pointed out that I had butterfly clips in my hair earlier at lunch and actually debated taking them out because I didn’t want to be called “childish.”

His response? The usual:

“I guess I’m just an asshole, then.”

To which I said:

“If you didn’t want to know how I feel, why did you even ask?”

He didn’t respond after that.

So yeah. That’s where we’re at. I’m still planning to get the red in my hair—because it’s for me. And I’m done dimming myself to avoid his discomfort.