I started colouring my hair on a regular basis about 8 years ago. Towards the end of high school it shifted between dark purple and bright red, a colour that inspired another girl to tell me once that she’d always wanted to dye her hair that colour, but didn’t have the guts to do it because guys don’t like girls with red hair. The rest of my teen years taught me that she was right. And a bit of a bitch.
A few years back, in an attempt to come to terms with my pale-ness (I was wearing a skirt a few weeks ago and was temporarily blinded at one stage when the sun reflected off my legs), I did something I grew to regret. I decided that instead of trying to cover it with fake tan, I’d just emphasise it. So I started dying my hair black.
Fast forward 3 years and I was bloody well over it. I tried putting heaps of different colours over the black, but nothing would take. A few times I considered trying to bleach my hair myself, but never followed through because I’ve always held the strong belief that accident prone people shouldn’t handle chemicals. Unless they want to melt their face off. Which I don’t. I like my face. We’ve had some good times together.
On Tuesday I finally manned up and stopped being so cheap. The hairdresser said she could strip the colour, but since it was black, the best result I could hope for was a dark brown. My hair sure as hell showed her. First, the bleach had to come out earlier than expected when my naturally blonde regrowth started to turn white. Also, when they say ‘it might sting your scalp a little’, what they really mean is ‘it will feel like flames are shooting out of your head.’
That dark brown I was told to hope for ended up being a mix of reds, browns, and blondes, and I think like it. Mostly because the lighter colour makes it harder to spot the crumbs and other various food stuffs that keep getting stuck in there.
I’m choosing to count this as a win.
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