Today I got my hair cut and coloured. It was the first haircut I’ve had in two and a half months, which is way too long to go between cuts, but I’ve been spending my money elsewhere lately (!!!). I decided that I would colour at the salon rather than do it myself since it only cost a little bit more, and then I don’t have to worry about staining the sink or heaven forbid, the new bathtub.
I’ve been dyeing my own hair since I was sixteen years old, but I’m not as neat as I should be with twelve years of practice. The most annoying part of at home dye-stains is that I don’t tend to see them until after they have sat for a while and have begun to sink in. You know those “colour boosters” that add that extra bit of oomph to dyejobs. They do wonders for the sink and doorframe too! Maybe that’s a sign that I should quit going red, but I’m not ready to change colours yet.
Sean keeps telling me that I should go blond, but I tell him no cuz I just don’t think it would suit me. Tonight, he reminded me that I was a blonde when I was little (which is true, I was blonde until my mother cut off my long hair – then it went dark). I just figure that most shades of blonde would wash me right out, being the lovely shade of corpse that I am. I also identify with having dark hair, so I just think going blonde would be too extreme a change for me. Maybe when I’m older though. I figure I only have 10-15 more years that I can pull off these completely unnatural reds before it looks like I’m trying too hard to be young and cool. Until then, I’m going to go as nuts as I dare, cuz life is too short to have mouse brown hair with grays dispersed throughout.