My mom had to quit her job as a hairdresser after she had my brother and me, and while she’ll always deny it, I truly believe she misses the work. I mean, why else would she use me as her living, experimental doll head for the majority of my childhood? I always had different haircuts, and in the summer after fourth grade, I was given my first highlights. Since then, my hair has been short, long, choppy, black, brown, blonde, orange, pink…nearly every color and cut you could think of. But no matter how much I loved a style, I’d get the insatiable urge to change it two months later. My mom couldn’t keep up.
But for the past two years, my hair has been long and blonde…ish. I went in for highlights a few times, but the change was always subtle. After growing tired of dark dye fading away too quickly, I grew to appreciate my hair for what it was.
Until last weekend. I was sitting in Biology, picking at my split ends and dreading the haircut that would take away that cool, unintentional ombre things I had going on, when I decided I finally wanted to change. Big time. The only color I’d never had was red because I never thought I’d be able to pull it off. But if I wanted to be happy with the change, I’d have to just go for it. So I acted on impulse and bought the dye. My mother had it in my hair by Monday night.
So now I have red hair. And I’m kinda obsessed with it. Other than the fact that I have to adjust my red- and orange-dominated makeup collection, I’m amazed at how well the transition went. I feel like I’ve been building up my wardrobe with the idea that my hair would someday be red in the back of my head the whole time. Maybe I’m secretly psychic. Who knows.
But since I love it so much, I’m afraid to wash my hair. I have color protection shampoo, and whenever I’d dye my hair with a red undertone before, the red would cling to my hair for eternity. Still. I’m paranoid about everything so I’m paranoid about this. I might stock up a collection of dye, you know…just in case.
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