In my attempt to regain more of a sense of self, I will now discuss something other than my children: my hair. Utterly riveting, I tell you.
This past weekend my hair underwent yet another transformation. The initial red that I had put in at the beach to cover the Blonde faded out, leaving me in the strawberry blonde family. While not terrible in and of itself, A) it was a far cry from my dark color, and B) I feared the Blonde was coming back. *Shudder*
The next time, I found another, redder color. It looked beautiful on the box. On my head? Think Ronald McDonald. (Whatever happened to the Fry Guys?) I found some comfort knowing that being a red, it would wash out pretty quickly. At that point, the plan was to go for the throat and get a nice boring box of dark brown. Hopefully that will be the end of it. At that moment, I decided I would even happily take my grays back.
The brunette is back, hopefully to stay. I have learned a few things throughout these past few months:
- I thought blonde hair was supposed to absorb everything? Everything but red hair dye, I guess. I’m hoping like hell brown is different. Otherwise, I might actually have to try rocking a pixie cut to rid myself of the Blonde nightmare.
- Blondes do not have more fun. I can say that with emphasis now. In fact, there have been moments in the past 3 months that were utterly excruciating and can by no means ever be construed as “fun.”
- I should just leave my shit well enough alone.
It should also be noted that my children don’t even react anymore when mommy has new hair. I hope Stella doesn’t believe that you can change your hair the way you can your shoes. This might be a terrible precedent.