So, yesterday, I dyed my hair. There are numerous reasons. Boredom…springtime…feeling sentimental for my hair circa 2005, when a stylist in L.A. took my locks one or two hues too blonde and I ended up liking it. Also, I have been telling my dear sweet stylist Gaby (who works here in case you’re ever desiring of awesome cut or color in Bergen county, NJ) that I was going to do it for months. She probably started thinking I was never going to use a special discount I’d earned for referring a client to the salon. (Oh yeah, if you ever do go to the salon, tell ’em I sent you. hehe) But, after literally months of hemming and hawwing and putting it off because of money (psh, what’s that about?) or because “I should be true to my totally natural, albeit mousey medium brown color…” or because “A simple single process is enough!” — I finally did it. The result:

You can’t completely tell how bright they are here… And I’m not 100% used to it myself, but I will be. It’s bold, it’s new, it’s bright caramel blonde highlights. Yeah, it’s pretty bright…and different. In fact, when he first saw it, my boyfriend said, “You’re an impostor!” Ack. I know he was kidding, but that’s just what I wasn’t going for. A few years ago, I left LA, thinking the city was full of voodoo that encourages its residents to sell their souls to the Gods of eating disorders and plastic surgery. I moved to NYC aka the epicenter of ‘genuine & artistic’ and decided to put the kibosh on blonde highlights. I went to the other end of the spectrum and started getting single process glazes to enhance my natural color or even make it a bit darker. I guess my inner monologue was pretty much, “What the heck was I doing before trying to look like Jennifer Aniston? I’m obviously a brunette. I need to stop trying to be something I’m not and embrace being a brunette! Brunette Pride!” But, it’s been a little less than 5 years since my highlights last faded away, and I was itching for a reinvention of sorts. A fresh look. And in retrospect, I do get what 2006 Me was worried about. I figured that “Beauty is being yourself” and “getting highlights” couldn’t co-exist in harmony. It’s true that sometimes, we change our look for someone else. We wax entire, really sensitive regions of our body, shave, pluck (oh, I’ll be getting to that one down the road…), apply fake lashes or straighten our hair for an event or because our mothers told us to or because we heard that some holier-than-thou and/or skinner-than-you queen at a fashion magazine said it was in style. But. Sometimes we do it for us. To be ourselves, in more vivid color. Now there are a lot of pretty golden streaks in my hair, but I’m not an impostor. It’s still me. Me, illuminated. And ready for the beach!
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