I dyed my hair today. Don't ask me why. I've had this overwhelming urge to dye my hair blue, or pink, all last week. But based on the fact that my boyfriend, family and more over; work, would probably not appricated techinicolor hair, I didn't think about it again......
At least about pink hair. I think what I wanted, was to break free. From what? I don't know. Just break free Like the song. I want to break apart from other people and just be myself and be weird with my snazzy spots and funky hair. I've been feeling such a need to rebel, be different and just run.
But the thing is, for the moment, I don't think I'm running from much of anything. Other than the stuff from the below post. Which at the moment, isn't bugging me nearly as much. But that's just right now. Wait an hour and ask again. I'm like a freaking Magic Eight Ball. Indecisive, and possibly filled with blue liquid.
So, Monday I got a box of hair dye: Clairol Natural Instincts Cinnaberry. Number 22. After letting my hair stay nice and washed for the allotted 24 hours, and after I eagerly got home from work, I was excited and a little nervous to do this. What if my hair falls out? What if it turns red? What if I screw this up? But I was committed.
After dampening my hair and combining the two bottles, I went to work, wearing my rattiest clothes. At first, not much happened. Then, halfway through I noticed I neglected to put on the plastic gloves that would be best used to apply hair dye. Whatever. Too late now. I kept squeezing, squishing and applying, finally getting my hair into this thick mass of dye, piled on my head, kept with a hair elastic.
I only waited eight minutes, because I was unsure if the time spent applying the dye to the hair counted as the time spent with the dye in your hair.
Rinsing it was the odd part. I was so worried I'd leave hair dye in that I rinsed for a good 7 minutes before rubbing my hair with a towel to be sure it all came off.
Even though my hair was wet, it looked darker, and I was dying to see the results.
As my hair dried, I noticed something. My hair was at least three shades darker, and had an undenialable hue to it.
Is that...Is that...PURPLE!!? I looked in the mirror at my drying hair. Purple!!? It was so scarse that you could swear it wasn't anything. But I swear my hair is now the ever so slightest shade of purple. When the light hits it JUST right.
And I couldn't be more psyched. Purple hair that is not purple. "Cinnaberry" with "reddish hues
" my ass. This is PURPLE!
I blew dried the rest of my hair,hoping Matt would be home soon to see my darker hair. Sure enough, he walked in from work, and I sat on the couch (in good light) and played with my hair, looking at him. In the clear body language girls give to people that says "Guess what's different about me." He got the message. Eying me suspisuciously he said "You look.....Nice?....Did you get your hair cut?...(No)..Did you dye your hair?" (caught grin)
"Yeah! And look! It's almost purple!!"
He says he can't see it, but I know it's there.
This hair dying this is sort of like a fun, less deadly version of Russian Roulette. It's like trying a new beer, or a bottle of wine from a winery you've yet to sample.
Afterall, it's just hair.
You can't tell, but it's THERE.