Realizing over the past year that my marriage was a sham — a giant smokescreen — was hard enough to come to terms with. Realizing that my husband never loved me, only loved the way I looked — and in turn the way I made him appear to other people — was absolutely gut wrenching.

When Levi and I were married, I was a 20-something, skinny, big blue eyed, blond girl. He was an almost 40, tall, skinny, bald guy. I never cared what he looked like — well, OK, to be honest, I did in the beginning — but I fell in love with him, and none of that crap mattered.

He, on the other hand, insisted that I stay skinny — he bought me memberships to the gym, even though he wouldn't go himself — insisted that I continue to dye my hair blond, insisted that I wear my contacts all the time, etc. He loved showing me off to all of his friends.

Anyway, looking in the mirror the other day, I saw myself — the same — exactly the way Levi wanted me all of those years.

Upon that realization, it took me all of three minutes to throw some clothes on, hop in my car, go to the drug store and grab some hair dye.

I've been dying my hair blond for at least 10 years. I don't even know what my natural hair color is anymore! I picked the closest thing I could find — a medium brown — went home, dyed my hair, and 45 minutes later, my hair was entirely grey.

Four bottles later, and I was back to natural, or as close to natural as you can get from a bottle.

I feel great. I'm so happy that I can look however I want now. I can look like me.