Hair Dying

I feel that everyone have very different opinions about hair dye. It can be used for many reasons but my favorite reason for dying one’s hair is definitely as a form of expression. I personal love dying my hair . It think it’s fun and refreshing but I have been known to go a bit overboard at times. I have dyed my hair many times in the past, in all kinds of colors and styles. It all started in elementary school. You hear me right, 5th grade. A popular girl that I’m going to call “L” came into the class one day with not only a brand new cartilage piercing, but also strips of pink in her light brown curly hair. All of the girls were on her at one. We were all fascinated and jealous to the core. By lunch time, the blond girls were highlighting their hair with actual highlighters. I was disappointed when it didn’t work on my dark brown almost black hair. I remember asking my mom about it the moment I got home and she of course said no. However, my cousins who were around my age had been experimenting with highlights at the time (and when I say experimenting, I literally mean that because my aunt was putting house-hold cleaning bleach on small sections of their hair). I was offer this as an alternative but I said refused. It wasn’t colorful. After a while of watching me desperately draw on my hair with different markers (and I think actual paint at one point) my mom and dad had a discussion about what to do and eventually gave in. I was shocked that they were actually okay with this but now I’m pretty sure that discussion was just my dad saying, “Let her do it and let her learn her lesson,” because, oh boy did I. [It was the same thing he said when I wanted to wear a bikini to my first day of summer swim team practice, another horrible cringe worthy story that I probably won’t ever tell. I just kind of hope that one will completely disappear from my memory. ]

My mom had a friend in who owned a little beauty store and so she brought me in one day. When my mom voiced her concerns, her friend cheerfully said, “Lot of the young girls are doing it now, I think it’s a trend.” She helped me find a hair dye called “Cherry” and warned me that my hair was probably too dark for it to show up really well but it would show up a little. And it did. My mom helped me put it in and I was slightly disappointed that it didn’t show up as vibrant as Lindsey’s but it shone in the sun and I was happy. The next day at school, I walked in to class spinning my hair around waiting for compliments, but nobody really noticed. Except for a few of the other girls. Now I definitely wasn’t part of the popular crowd, I hung around mainly with myself, so as you can imagine this made me look….well frankly desperate. I hear “L” at one point saying “She just did it too copy me.” in a tone of aggravation and annoyance that made me just want to die (Haha, Die-Dye. Punny). It made me surprisingly sad, regretful. I even went up to “L” and tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to copy her and I’m sure you can all imagine how well that went. I had the color in my hair for a little bit, my mom’s friend made sure to give me the temporary stuff (another reason my mom gave in). And you would have thought that was the last time I would have attempted to color my hair but even thought I still felt my stomach do flips when I think about “L” comment, I was hooked. I did eventually let my Aunt put the bleach in my hair and I actually really liked it (now the pictures from that time make me shake my head but in the early 2000s, it was pretty nifty).

When I got older, my mom and I experimented with home highlighting kits together  but most of those just looked terrible. I’ve had red highlights, purple tones and a smattering of other. All looked okay for a little bit and was only acceptable because I was in high school. When I was in college, I had this “thing” I would do where I was get one of the “Splat” kits from CVS, bleach about an inch of the underside of my hair, on the left side and then give it vibrant color. I had neon blues, pinks, reds, I think green at one point. Then I would cut my hair short, cutting off the bleached section, have normal hair for a while and when my hair was long enough, do it all over again. Last year, dyed my entire underside of my at the time very long hair a dark purple. I don’t know if I will ever completely give it up. I told myself when I got a real job and was a grown up, I would stop but then I dyed my entire head red just a month ago. I go back and forth on the topic so much. Every year I tell myself I’m too old to dye my hair but I suddenly blink and poof! Color! Maybe I’ll never stop. Maybe I don’t want to stop. Maybe it’s time that we redefine the normal. Maybe it’s time you see a girl with exotic pink and green hair walking down the street and instead of saying “Wow, she has weird hair”, you’ll say “Wow, why is she walking a ferret?” It is the time for acceptance. For expression. For more color.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,

C

I feel that everyone have very different opinions about hair dye. It can be applied many reasons but my favorite is definitely as a form of expression. I personal love dying my hair . It think it’s fun and refreshing but I have been known to go a bit overboard at times. I have dyed my hair many times in the past, in all kinds of colors and styles. It all started in elementary school. You hear me right, 5th grade. A popular girl that I’m going to call “L” came into the class one day with not only a brand new cartilage piercing, but also strips of pink in her light brown curly hair. All of the girls were on her at one. We were all fascinated and jealous to the core. By lunch time, the blond girls were highlighting their hair with actual highlighters. I was disappointed when it didn’t work on my dark brown almost black hair. I remember asking my mom about it the moment I got home and she of course said no. However, my cousins who were around my age had been experimenting with highlights at the time (and when I say experimenting, I literally mean that because my aunt was putting house-hold cleaning bleach on small sections of their hair). I was offer this as an alternative but I said refused. It wasn’t colorful. After a while of watching me desperately draw on my hair with different markers (and I think actual paint at one point) my mom and dad had a discussion about what to do and eventually gave in. I was shocked that they were actually okay with this but now I’m pretty sure that discussion was just my dad saying, “Let her do it and let her learn her lesson,” because, oh boy did I. [It was the same thing he said when I wanted to wear a bikini to my first day of summer swim team practice, another horrible cringe worthy story that I probably won’t ever tell. I just kind of hope that one will completely disappear from my memory. ]

My mom had a friend in who owned a little beauty store and so she brought me in one day. When my mom voiced her concerns, her friend cheerfully said, “Lot of the young girls are doing it now, I think it’s a trend.” She helped me find a hair dye called “Cherry” and warned me that my hair was probably too dark for it to show up really well but it would show up a little. And it did. My mom helped me put it in and I was slightly disappointed that it didn’t show up as vibrant as Lindsey’s but it shone in the sun and I was happy. The next day at school, I walked in to class spinning my hair around waiting for compliments, but nobody really noticed. Except for a few of the other girls. Now I definitely wasn’t part of the popular crowd, I hung around mainly with myself, so as you can imagine this made me look….well frankly desperate. I hear “L” at one point saying “She just did it too copy me.” in a tone of aggravation and annoyance that made me just want to die (Haha, Die-Dye. Punny). It made me surprisingly sad, regretful. I even went up to “L” and tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to copy her and I’m sure you can all imagine how well that went. I had the color in my hair for a little bit, my mom’s friend made sure to give me the temporary stuff (another reason my mom gave in). And you would have thought that was the last time I would have attempted to color my hair but even thought I still felt my stomach do flips when I think about “L” comment, I was hooked. I did eventually let my Aunt put the bleach in my hair and I actually really liked it (now the pictures from that time make me shake my head but in the early 2000s, it was pretty nifty).

When I got older, my mom and I experimented with home highlighting kits together  but most of those just looked terrible. I’ve had red highlights, purple tones and a smattering of other. All looked okay for a little bit and was only acceptable because I was in high school. When I was in college, I had this “thing” I would do where I was get one of the “Splat” kits from CVS, bleach about an inch of the underside of my hair, on the left side and then give it vibrant color. I had neon blues, pinks, reds, I think green at one point. Then I would cut my hair short, cutting off the bleached section, have normal hair for a while and when my hair was long enough, do it all over again. Last year, dyed my entire underside of my at the time very long hair a dark purple. I don’t know if I will ever completely give it up. I told myself when I got a real job and was a grown up, I would stop but then I dyed my entire head red just a month ago. I go back and forth on the topic so much. Every year I tell myself I’m too old to dye my hair but I suddenly blink and poof! Color! Maybe I’ll never stop. Maybe I don’t want to stop. Maybe it’s time that we redefine the normal. Maybe it’s time you see a girl with exotic pink and green hair walking down the street and instead of saying “Wow, she has weird hair”, you’ll say “Wow, why is she walking a ferret?” It is the time for acceptance. For expression. For more color.

Putting the Fuse in Confused,

C

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: