So, yesterday I decided to go RED. I even dyed my eyebrows. (It’s quite convincing, actually.)
Anyway – I’ve been thinking a lot lately about hair color, and the role it’s played in my life. What started with a little innocent spritz of Sun-In in the sixth grade, quickly became a life long love affair with color. From there, it was everything from fire-engine red, to plum delight, to black, to blonde, and back again.
But why the constant changes? Really, I have no idea – most of the time it’s nothing more than boredom, or to cover up the last dye-job gone wrong, and sometimes I just bought a new blue shirt that I think would look really good with Red hair.
Or maybe it’s because my dear, sweet Ange moved to Iowa, and I just need a little ginger in my life.
Whatever the reason, I can’t help but be curious – would retracing my follicular steps tell me something new and interesting about who I am as a person? Or would it just be a horrifying rehashing of my formative years chock full of bad aesthetic choices?