By “Break up or divorce?” This question came from the first stylist I consulted about dyeing my dark hair platinum blonde. It was a break up and, yes, I was aware of the cliché.
Or the “strope,” as I’d taken to calling it. Strope: (noun) a self-aware trope. Like, say, venturing to midtown in the hopes of after your three-year relationship came to an abrupt end.
The day prior, I’d sent one of my grad school classmates a photo of myself curled fetally, a weighted heating pad shelling me like a depressed turtle.
We were on winter break, which meant I’d been able to dedicate approximately 75% of the last fourteen days to perfecting this precise activity.
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