I spent the last month and a half being a redhead. That's all fine and dandy, but considering how horrifyingly quickly my hair grows, it wasn't long before I had "floating hair" (in otherwords, I had about half an inch of dark brown roots underneath all that glorious red dead straight afro. (Okay, only in the morning.)
To be perfectly honest, I don't even know if that's my natural hair colour since it's a proven fact that hair dye chemically alters the colour that your roots produce, even after the first dye job, and I started dying my hair when I was 12. (The most hideous, fire engine/Ronald McDonald red in the universe, no less.) It was supposed to wash out in eight washes, but no dice, my friends. I read my grade 8 annual and cringe, because most of the entries are about my bright red hair.
The box lied to me.
And no, I can't verify the natural colour of my hair any other way, before you even ask. The drapes don't match the carpet, because the carpet is hardwood flooring.
Ahem. Anyways... True to form, I've become a connoisseur of changing my hair colour, and often end up using home kits to dye friends hair, (I've only fucked up ONCE, sorry Crystal.) I could post about twenty pictures of me in varying shades of colour, from Barbie blonde, (including with, and without trashy dark brown roots) previously mentioned Ronald McDonald red, Flamingo pink, (Yes, that was deliberate) Blue, a tame red, and my current favourite, Dark brown with light blonde chunky highlights. There's also a shit load of colours in between I'm forgetting. The same goes for length I've been shorter than my current style, to down to my lower back. I'm a full believer that you should play with your hair, and find what suits you the most, in both colour and cut.
My hairdresser texturizes the fuck out of my hair, being that it's very thick, and if she didn't texturize it, in the current style I have right now, tends to look like my mom put a bowl on my head and simply followed the edge. I'm going to attempt, (and yes, I know I've said this to at least half a dozen friends, but still!) to grow my hair out at about the middle of my shoulder blades. It's that dratted bangs in the eyes stage I detest that drives me insane. (Hence why I was NOT pleased having a cut with them, but have grown accustomed to it.) As it stands now, I'm a little too shaggy for my own comfort, and I was tempted to stop by and let my hairdresser have at it.
My close family is very vain about our hair. Perhaps it's genetic. At present, my Father's hair is longer than mine, his goes to past his shoulder blades, and he pampers the hell out of it. (I find that adorable.) For those of you that have never seen a picture of my father (Check the Christmas Day entry) he's about six foot four, I'm guessing around 230-ish lbs, Husky, full bearded, and looks like the gruffest biker in the universe, but is the sweetest man and has a laugh that is addictive and always makes me smile. My mother has long dark auburn hair that if she didn't dye it would go the coolest silver-grey. Once I go grey, (And I love to say this even though I won't follow through most likely) I'm not dying it. I want to have that wicked shade, and I hope to hell I do go that colour. As it stands now, I haven't seen a grey yet, but that event is probably happening sooner, rather than later.
Such is the life of my hair. Fascinating, I'm sure. Apologies for the completely trivial post, but hey, sometimes the urge just hits you smack in the forehead.
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