What's with the hair? 1/6/07

I've got something on my mind and since this is my outlet, I'm letting it out here. I've got way too much in me to just keep it all inside, nice and neat. It's starting to get crowded in this warped little brain of mine and it's time to let it go.

I need a change. I need for something to happen that goes 100% my way for once. Only twice in my life have things gone my way without me having to make loads of concessions: I married a great man and I have a beautiful son. Not that either of those came easily to me, I really had to work and struggle to get both, but in the end, I got exactly what I wanted.

I'm unsure of what I want to change though, and that's the problem. Is it my hair color? I've been a red-head. I've had blacker than black hair (80's baby!). I've had dark, dark brown with caramel colored highlights (have that now). I could go back to red, but I'm not sure how my hair will take that. Winding up with red hair in the first place was an accident. I was 16ish. My natural hair color is almost black, with the tiniest bit of red mixed in - ahhhhhh the Irish genes! My girlfriend and I decided my hair would look really cute with blonde streaks in it - after all, this was the 80's. So, I bought a home color kit, she pulled my hair through the cap, painted on the dye and we wait. When the timer went off, we washed it out. It looked SOOOOO cute! We were sneaking beer and drank a few, giggled for a bit and drifted off to sleep.

The next day, I got up and headed to the bathroom. What I saw in the mirror made me cringe, scream and cry. My head was orange. Fucking orange! Have you ever seen a woman with black hair who has tried to die it blonde? You know how it turns orange? Well, that was me, except it seemed brighter than any orange I've ever seen. Carrot top, move over. Then, the horror really hit me - I was going to a family reunion that day. "MOM!!!!" I went upstairs and showed her. She started laughing, I kept crying. I remember begging her to go to the drugstore and get a box of the darkest hair dye she could find so that I could fix it. She said she'd take me, but I had to go. This was to be a lesson in why I shouldn't mess with the color of my hair. I tied a bandanna around my head - like a 70's housewife, donned some dark sunglasses and got in the car. I found the darkest brown I could find and brought it home, got it on my head and waited. When the time came to wash it out, I ran to the bathroom and began immediately with the begging to God, Jesus, whatever higher power was listening. "Please let this turn out normal. If you do, I will never mess with the hair you gave me again. I will leave it alone, in all its glory and have no shine to it whatsoever.

After I washed it all VERY thoroughly, I wrapped the towel around my head so tight and refused to take it off. I must have spent at least an hour with that thing on my head until finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I went in the bathroom and in front of the mirror, I began to unwrap my head. And do you know what color I saw under there? Certainly not the darkest brown that was available at the store that day. Of course not, that would be too easy! I guess my prayers were futile. Perhaps it was all of the promises to not smoke any more if just this one time my mom didn't find that pack of smokes I left in my jacket, only to get home, find them and immediately go light up!

Yes, I was Ronald Fucking McDonald. The brightest red hair you could ever imagine on a human. Not the shade of red that you see girls putting in their hair today. No, it was more like my head was on fire, and had just been put out and what was left was burning embers. It was that color.

I went to the family reunion, avoided all cameras and went back home, beaten down by the stares of those who were supposed to love me no matter what. I thought to myself if I waited a few weeks, I could try darker hair dye again and it should solve the problem. However, one week later, the bright, brassiness had toned down incredibly and it was the most beautiful shade of red hair I'd ever seen.

I kept that color until I turned 33, at which time I decided to go back to my natural brown. After all, I just had a baby and felt a strong need to have the same hair color as my son. As it turns out, he's got his mama's curls with his daddy's color, so it no longer seems important to me. At that same time, I got most of the length cut off, something I had sworn I would never do again. Of course now, I'm trying to grow it out again, but loved it while it was short!

I just want something new. Something exciting. Something vibrant. Hair seems easy, and if I screw it up again, I can always go get the darkest color of brown I can find at the store. Maybe with some luck, it'll turn into some new color I never imagined it could be.

Or perhaps I should just go buy some new makeup. I'm tired of brown eye shadow. Maybe its time to go back to the purple hues I used in high school. Or maybe I should rearrange the furniture in my house. Or maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't change anything and just be grateful that overall, life is good.