Today my husband colored my hair.
I am once again a brunette.
I grew up a blonde, praying daily that my hair would turn brown like my mother’s. She had such beautiful hair, deep and rich. Mine was blonde, and wild. Blonde’s were considered stupid though, and I was not stupid. Blonde’s were cute and on the cheerleading squad or the field hockey team. I was not athletic at all. They had fun. I studied and watched my little brothers. They went on dates. My “dates” for dances were coordinated by my mom. She would set me up with the sons of her friends just so I could attend.
Slowly, after the birth of our first child, my hair began changing. It turned darker every year. Even more slowly, the strands of grey began sneaking into the mane.
Last summer, on a whim, I dyed it blonde. Bright blonde. With HOT PINK streaks.
It was amazing! I LOVED IT!
I loved it so much that I redid the whole thing in October before leaving for the Relevant Conference.
I expected to get shocking looks from everyone; however, most of the people I met (around home and at Relevant) LOVED it.
Four months will do a number on a dye job and mine had seen better days. At almost $100 a visit, I had not been able to afford a touch up.
I just returned from a trip to see my dad (and s-mom… I hate calling her my step mom, but I don’t want to confuse y’all), my sister Katie, and my sister J with her new baby!!
Normally, one would fix their hair before going to see family they haven’t seen in over a year, but I saved my money for gas and food AND dad has a slight issue with colored hair and I knew the pink would get me in enough trouble… no need to make it worse by having it extra bright.
Due to the Predisone I’ve been taking for my fleece rash, I’ve been having major issues sleeping. One night at the hotel, while my family snoozed, I started uploading all the pictures from the trip. I was cropping and fixing red-eye and giggling over the bajillion shots I had taken of that squishy baby girl. Then I saw it.
The picture of me. The eight or nine pictures of me actually. The ones that were supposed to be me but all I could see was the body I swore I would NEVER have.
I was smarter than that.
I knew what to eat.
I knew how to exercise.
I wasn’t that far from where I started from was I?
.
.
.
yes.
yes I was.
Yes I Am.
I’m very very far away.
I sat up in that hotel bed and cried. Cried for the year I have wasted in denial over what I was doing to myself.
That’s when I decided to let go of my pink.
Pink was hot, confident, fiesty.
I was in denial, faking, and miserable.
I made myself a deal.
Set a goal. Get a plan. Go back to my basic mom hair color. Work hard. Stay focused. Earn my pink back.
So this is me now.
ColorSilk 41. Two bottles worth.
Until I get there. Where I want to be.
