The Emotions of Hair

What is it about hair?

A week ago I had an appointment for highlights but I was really sick of getting blonder and blonder every few months. So I discussed it with my hairdresser, I suggested I'd like to be more of a natural light brown. And then I put my total trust in his hands.

Big Mistake.

But honestly, I don't know how I could have avoided it. If I don't trust, nothing changes. If I do trust, it's a gamble. Sometimes I love it, sometimes my mantra is "it will grow, it's just hair."

I walked out of the salon a striking deep brunette with auburn tones. AND I FREAKED! I went home and Bryan actually said, "wow, that's different. I guess you don't know until you change it that it looked better before."

So I freaked some more. And the next morning at 10am I called the salon and told them I needed it fixed. They were incredibly gracious and fit me in the next day. During the 36 hours in between I actually hit my hair under a hat. I felt so unsettled, so anxious. And honestly I felt in limbo about who I was. I would constantly pass the mirror or look in windows for my reflection. Each time I would be optimistic that I would like what I saw, each time I sank deeper into depression. Seriously, over my hair color.

Anyway, I went back and they lightened it slightly. It's still a dark brown. I don't know if it was the subtle change in color, or the fact that they actually did something to improve it, but I'm happy now.

I see my self in the mirror and I think it looks pretty good. I catch myself in a window reflection and I think "huh..." I see pictures of myself and realize it's too dark. But what am I going to do? It's just hair. It will fade, it will grow. And I probably won't make this mistake again.

Here, you can judge for yourself. But be honest. No sense in empty flattery...

This is what it looked like in November, with my grandmother.

This is what it looked like on Easter, with my grandmother.

This is what it looked like on day one of the fixed situation, on the iphone, in the bathroom at work, lit from the front.

This is what it looked like on day one of the fixed situation, on the iphone, in the bathroom at work, lit from the back.

*spoiler alert* this is what it looks like wind-blown and in braids from the most southern place in the US.

And this is what it looks like under a tarp, from Bryan's height, when I buy eight papayas for $1.

So there you go, an essay on my hair. I wouldn't have expected anything less.