It's the thing that crowns a girl.
The thing that makes us feel brave and secure.
The thing that tells the rest of the world how we see ourselves.
It can give us crisis after crisis.
The wrong colour, the wrong cut, the wrong shape.
They say that when a girl is stressed out, she takes it out on her hair, changing it time and time again, trying to force it to her will, to force herself feel in control of her life again.
Hair is what we are.
By our hair, others categorize us.
By our hair, we obtain control over ourselves.
I've been stuck in a vicious cycle dying.
I remember the last time.
First, i died it red.
Then i went dark brown.
Then i went black.
Then i tried to bleach it, and it went orange, and my hair was a mess.
After that, i chopped it off.
And i didn't learn from it.
I went as a natural brunette for a long while, and then i started hennaing.
I loved henna, but got sick of being a red head. It didn't feel right.
So i went dark again.
It didn't feel right, either, and since i went chocolate, i just counted the days until i could do this.
|oh god, i look like a boy!|
So i'm back to my own colour again.
There's still a bit of bittersweet chocolate on the ends.
I didn't dare go shorter :D
I like hair.
You might say i have a fetish about it.
I remember an old fling... he had blonde hair, down to his waist.
Good lord how i loved his hair.
Saying that will make husband look at me funny again :P
I think this episode of hair dye has finally taught me my lesson.
I'm most comfortable in my own skin.
Even if my hair has a habit of pushing out white strands...
I used to have long hair.
I used to be a bit skinnier, too :D
I kinda want that back.
Not the skinniness.
But the hair was nice <3