Dying my hair on a random Sunday
When I was a kid, I have blonde curly hair but eventually it got to long. My mom loved my blonde hair, but she had to get it cut she didn’t know that my hair would completely change. The once blonde hair was now brown and straight, I grew up finding photos of my blonde hair on my mom’s facbook and was always sad that it wasn’t still curly. My hair was dark brown when wet and in the sun was a light brown, but it looked almost gray which I hated. Eventually I was sick of it and in a point in my life where change was big.
Freshman year of high school the year I was out as a gay man even though we all knew; and the year I started being myself. Being myself came with me exaggerating my personality to feel comfortable and hyper fixating on one person who I like to call a victim of me coming out which is a story for a different time. The second semester was when the big changes in my life happened like I started going out of my house and experimenting with new things some which I shouldn’t have like nicotine which I still miss to this day but one thing I did experiment with which I am happy for is dying my hair. I wanted to go darker but also needed the courage I hated making big changes because of the attention it brought even if it wasn’t bad. After getting the validation I needed from people I went to the store with my mom a bought the hair dye just a dark brown not to create a dramatic change. We got home and she poured the bottle of dye on my hair and rubbed it in not being gentle making small cuts in my head with her nails which caused burning from the chemicals. My head was on fire, and I hated it even though now I can ignore it because beauty is pain.

After months of dying my hair and people commenting on how it looks read when faded I decided I wanted to go even darker, so I went black. The black dye was a major change because it could either look good or I will look emo which does not match my vibe. Luckly the black looked good and people loved it but more importantly I loved it and kept dying it black repeatedly wanting to go darker which wasn’t even possible. It faded blue which I hated but was able to live with. I decided I wanted to grow it out sophomore year and failed the first time but stuck to it the second. After growing it out for months and it still not fully being gone after people’s comments about saying they could see it grown out. I have a coworker who every time she saw me, she would say I should dye it black again and looking back at my snapchat thirst trapes with the dark hair I decide to go back dark. Instead of going black I chose the darkest brown hoping to love it. My least favorite part of dying my hair is the waiting for it to be done having to sit straight up to not get die on anything and trying to pass time that’s why I’m writing this but now that my timer is going off I am going to go wash it out and hope for the best.
Thank you for reading my blabbering, and enjoy the website


