Day 64: Dying Dark


You know what they say…Blondes have more fun, and and all that.

Well, given that I’m rather proud that I’m not one to have too much fun, I decided there was only one way to go, hair-hue wise: Dark.

My natural hair is best described as the color of diluted puke. You know, the brownish-orangey scum that floats on the toilet water surface after a good hurl.

Over the years I’ve gone blonder (and, yes, had more fun, if fun is considered someone sidling up and asking if the “curtains match the rug”), redder (a different kind of fun, if you count being called “a pistol” as a good time) and a normal chestnut-y sun kissed brown (no fun, but lots of moms who wanted to fix me up with their sons).

Needing a new experience to chronicle, I used the opportunity to go where I’ve never gone before: dark.

I didn’t go pure black, which is a good thing because sooner or later someone would’ve charged me with a wooden stake and waved garlic bagel chips in my face. Life woulda been one big Bride of Dracula or Alice Cullen joke.

But I did go a very, very, very dark brown. Think dirty motor oil brown.

People’s reactions have been less than favorable. I’m pale enough that I still had a few individuals make crosses in my direction with their forefingers. One kid yanked on his dad’s pant leg and whispered, “will it bite me?”

A so-called friend looked me up and down and said—after a very pregnant pause—simply, “Huh.”

Another unsolicited gem: “I’m sure it’ll wash out. Some day.”


I mean, I thought I’d get at least one appreciative whistle and a, “Wow, that’s dramatic!”

Instead, I got more along the lines of, “Wow, that’s traumatic!”


Personally, I, um, think my attempts at fiction and poetry are much more traumatic than my new ‘do.

But maybe the folks who commented on my hair haven’t read my pathetic attempts at creative writing. If they had, they might’ve been a little kinder about my motor oil mop.
Each day of 2014, I’m forcing encouraging myself to have at least one new experience (and chronicling it to keep it real). If you’re interested in why–though I can’t for the life of me imagine anyone would be that bored–check out the “about” page.


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