When I was in High School, I wanted red hair so badly. Not bright red, but a beautiful dark burgundy. Although I did want bright red for some time too. I tried my best to dye it, without bleach. It never quite worked out that well. It worked to do a strip or even the ends, but when I tried to do my whole head, it just gave it a red tinge.
I have never lost that desire, funnily enough. I always come back to it, and think that it looks gorgeous and always wishing I could find a way to do that to my hair. I know red dye is super high maintenance and washes out quite easily, so it needs to be done semi-frequently. And I have never got it done professionally (maybe my dream later on). I want to have it done professionally, but all the different techniques and shades I have done have all been practice, for knowing exactly what I want.
And I have been needing a change with my hair. I felt so stagnant, sort of just drifting and never changing. So I wanted to do something with it. I wanted to dye it, but it felt so…high school to me. It almost felt like it would undermine the image I have today and the style I have. It put me off dying my hair for a while and it made me sad each day to know I wanted to do something, but I had no idea what.
I don’t want to cut my hair, because I love the length. Maybe I could shape it, get some layers, but nothing dramatic. I used to keep cutting my hair long and short to give myself some changes, but I have grown it so long now, I don’t want to get rid of that.
So I finally decided to dye my hair. I don’t want my ideas of how people will perceive me to effect my own choices. I want to dye my hair, and I need to let that desire motivate my decisions, not about an image.
I think, perhaps, the reason why I associate dying hair with high school and youth is that in high school, when I was younger, I didn’t think that much about the risks. It was easier for me to jump full into the idea of hair. It didn’t seem as permanent. My image wasn’t something I used to be concerned that much with. I didn’t care if it made me look like something I wasn’t, I knew I would grow into it and it would become me. The decision didn’t seem like the big idea it is now. It didn’t seem permanent and it didn’t seem immature. It seemed like an experiment to see how I liked my hair, to change the outside, and the inside. When I dyed my hair it was because I was going through a change and I wanted my appearance to reflect that.
Nothing about that has changed. And I wish I had more of that mentality now. I’ve gotten fossilized about my appearance, thinking that a perception, an image, is very important to how I am perceived.
But I am going to dye my hair, in an attempt to gain back that attitude I used to have. The carefreeness, the ability to take risks, the necessity of change, and the lack of emotional interest in the weight of other’s perceptions.