Opinionated

My hair, that is.

Apparently my hair has a moral opposition to being blond.

When I was a baby, it was red. There is a very funny story from my babyhood. This little 80-something year old lady was sitting by my parents in church one Sunday when I was tiny. She looked at me, looked at my mom, looked at my dad, looked us all over one by one again. Then, she looked at my mom and said "That baby has red hair. What color hair does your milkman have?" She just said it to be funny, but it was definitely not something you would expect from someone like that.

When I was younger, it started to go blond - but it was a dishwater blond. My mother would put lemon juice on it in the summers and send me out to the sunshine - making it turn almost platinum blond. It was very pretty.

By the time I was 14, I was sick of my hair. I didn't like the color. It was mousy and just blah. So I decided to dye it. I picked out a very pretty blond dye, and Mom colored my hair. When it was finished and dry, I looked in the mirror, and it was... red. Huh? Apparently, I had enough natural red in my hair that it sort of took over. As I looked at it and thought about it, I decided I liked it.

And I learned that the old saying "Blonds have more fun" isn't true. It's actually redheads.

Years passed, I went back to my natural color. Then, a couple years ago, I started highlighting it sometimes. I did a full dye a couple months ago, a pretty brown. But I decided to go lighter for the warmer weather. And why not take another stab at blond? With Surfer Pirate's input, I picked out a pretty blond. This morning, I set out with the process.

And the results?

Red.

To be fair, it's actually strawberry blond. And it's pretty. But it's still red.

My hair just likes to be red.



But on another note, three posts today? I think I'm obsessed!