Julianne Hough—heard of her? She’s famous for having bangs and the ability to do the splits on just about every surface known to mankind. She’s a TV person who does TV-person things: walks red carpets, poses with shampoo bottles, competes on Dancing With the Stars, and receives vague wellness treatments at GOOP summits. She’s also getting a divorce, another trait common among notable people, from sports athlete Brooks Laich, who played... football? Don’t ask me to Google him. Anyway, Hough is going through it right now. She even dyed her hair brown. Twist!
Sources exclusively “spill” to well known tabloid Us Weekly that Julianne Hough is “not doing great right now and feels like her brunette hair is a reflection of her feelings... She is super upset.” I’d be too! Brunette hair? Gasp!
Now, rumors of said divorce were bubbling up long before Hough and Laich announced their split on May 29, telling People: “We have lovingly and carefully taken the time we have needed to arrive at our decision to separate.” In December, Page Six reported that the reality competition show star-slash-judge was flying solo in NYC, attending a 7 a.m. Daybreaker dance party stuffed with finance bros and wellness gurus. Shortly after, she announced a dance party across America as part of Oprah’s Weight Watchers tour, posing in selfies without her wedding ring. Around New Years’, sources told Us Weekly that Hough and Laich were “having problems.” The rumors linked up with a January episode of Laich’s podcast, “How Men Think,” in which he claimed he was “exploring his sexuality,” which wasn’t “100 percent fully expressed” in his marriage.
Then, Hough’s exorcism happened:
At the Davos Summit in January, inside the “Equality Lounge”—a branded experience aimed at converting women into capitalists—Hough had former chiropractor Dr. John Amaral pull her divorce energies out through her ass. As you can clearly see in the video above, the experience was kinetic and visceral. As Amaral went digging for those bad vibes, Hough rolled and shaked and screamed in dual ecstasy and pain. She later posted an Instagram Story alluding to her spiritual ascension past the mortal realm:
“To love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be. The people they’re too exhausted to be any longer. The people they don’t recognize inside themselves anymore. The people they grew out of, the people they never ended up growing into. We so badly want the people we love to get their spark back when it burns out; to become speedily found when they are lost. But it is not our job to hold anyone accountable to the people they used to be. It is our job to travel with them between each version to honor what emerges along the way. Sometimes it will be an even more luminescent flame. Sometimes it will be a flicker that disappears and temporarily floods the room with a perfect and necessary darkness.”
Subtweeting your soon-to-be ex-husband while your spirit wanders beyond the physical plane seemed a feat in and of itself, speaking to the strong composition of Hough’s soul that allowed it to manifest emotions, thoughts, and feelings in the fourth dimension. (Or, wherever souls go when they are exorcised out through the butthole.) But Hough, whose body remained marooned here in Los Angeles, had other plans. Almost immediately, she went brunette.
Sources claim their split was a “long time coming,” postulating that “they argued a lot and just had different viewpoints on important issues.” What those issues were might never be known, but Hough’s brunette hair speaks volumes. Laich seems like the kind of man who would break up with a woman for all sorts of things: the frequency of energy exorcisms she was receiving, all those 7 a.m. branded pop-up dance parties, her coming out as “not straight” in Women’s Health. Or, it could very well have been his unexpressed sexuality, which presumably meant I want to have sex with other women who are not named Julianne Hough.
Regardless, as a fellow brunette, I congratulate Hough on her spiritual enlightenment, but also on her bravery. To be a brunette, to live as we do, to see the world through brunette-colored tresses. There is deep sadness to be found, in being a brunette, but also, incredible growth, and understanding, of the many paths that our hair might follow. Godspeed on your journey, Julianne Hough, and hope your soul makes it back to your body in one piece. [Us Weekly]
There is a person I will not be engaging with, who makes music that is somehow a cross between an iPhone commercial and the music you hear in dentists’ waiting rooms. They have a new song out, which I could not tell you the name of, even if they had a gun pointed to my head. It features them doing their thing: vocalizing, shimmying, and being upstaged by the background dancers surrounding them. Thankfully, Cardi B has remixed this song. It sounds much better now!
Gabrielle Union claims that her agent was threatened following her whistleblowing about the working conditions on America’s Got Talent.
Lady Gaga would like a word with you:
Kyle Richards misses “escaping from reality,” an Instagram caption that fails to read the room almost as much as those tunics she supposedly designed for NYFW.
- Nene Leakes insists she’s not fired. [Bossip]
- Lori Loughlin doesn’t wanna catch coronavirus in prison, apparently. (Why are they sending this woman to prison again?) [Us Weekly]
- Justin Bieber loves basketball. [Just Jared]
- Dina Lohan—engaged? [ET]
- Leah Remini says Scientology’s reckoning is coming following Danny Masterson’s rape charges Wednesday evening: “Your days of getting away with it [are] coming to an end!” [Page Six]
Correction, 9:30 am: This post has been updated to correctly reflect Sam Smith’s pronouns. Jezebel regrets the error.