It was 7 p.m. on a Monday night when I received a frantic FaceTime call. On the other end, my long-distance best friend was desperate for help all the way from her apartment in Manhattan.

“How do I move the pliers so I can get this stuff out of my hair?” she asked, half laughing and half crying.

A month prior, following a rosé-filled, beachside lunch, we decided to have tinsel (AKA metallic plastic) installed in our hair in a desperate attempt to feel the excitement of our youth. For the first few days, we were on a high. Ignoring the sensory nightmare of metal clips secured tightly near our scalps by indulging in martinis at Café Thirty-A, we joyfully embraced our new looks, salt-air-dried hair and all.

In the fluorescent light of our offices the morning after we returned from our trip, though … Now, that was a different story. On our first days back to work, we texted each other in a panic about how to style our hair with the plastic embellishments. With no heat allowed on the tinsel, we were doomed to extra-long getting-ready windows or an embrace of our natural looks, and natural wasn’t really a welcome option for any of us.

I had my husband remove my extra sparkle that same night. Equipped with pliers, he yanked on my hair while simultaneously drafting his fantasy football team. He’s a man of many talents. But my friends? They were a little more committed than I.

Three weeks later, it was time. They had had enough. About an hour after my husband walked her through the removal process virtually, my friend texted me informing me that she had lost “a Barbie doll’s amount of hair.” We’ll count that as a win.

Girlhood is complicated. One second, you’re sparkling like a mermaid, and the next, you’re crying in the bathroom mirror while trying to remove metal clips from your scalp. Beauty … it really is pain.

I’m reminded each time I have the privilege of spending time with all of my friends that girlhood isn’t something you grow out of. Girlhood is forever. And thank goodness for that.

As we danced atop the beach house’s couches, called boyfriends to ask silly questions while the rest of the group giggled in the background, and had golden anklets with matching charms welded to our ankles, it became clear to me that age really is just a number. (This is an important revelation at age 30.) There is no time limit on having fun. The key is to just do it—and to, for lack of better phrasing, release your inhibitions. Feel the rain on your skin, girl.

This month, we are giving readers a behind-the-scenes look at the life and home of the one and only Martha Gibbs, AKA Neubyrne. If anyone is embracing girlhood and releasing her inhibitions, it’s her. From dozens of hot pink chandeliers to a home office-turned-closet to a last-minute accessory console for adding just one more clip, earring or bag before you leave the house, Gottwald’s life is straight out of an early 2000s movie, and we can’t get enough. Click here for the whole story.

Meanwhile, my friends and I are already plotting our next adventure with hair tinsel. We know the risks. But we can’t resist the perfect Mardi Gras sparkle. Don’t worry, we’re all packing our newly purchased pliers. We’re going to need them.