five.

So… I’m almost a little embarrassed to post this. But, well, this is a visual blog and this is certainly something to look at…
Um, so that’s me. And that’s my hair. Not my hair over the course of a couple years… not over one year… not even over the course of a month. That’s me, and my hair, and what I did to it over the course of 2 weeks. Yep, that’s right. I’m not going to lie… I do this every winter to some extent. I wake up, look outside, look in the mirror, and decide that it’s time for a change. I started with semi-permanent “light auburn,” and I really did love it {#2}. But it washed out in 2 days. So then I thought I might as well commit, and colored my hair permanent “light auburn,” which actually equated to “bright orange.” Truth be told, the hair color wasn’t what bothered me. I actually kind of liked it–but I tend to wear lots of bold statement type things, and I’m just not sure Rockford was ready for orange hair + fuchsia lipstick + kelly green coat. Anyway, as the week progressed it turned from orange to the color of a safety vest. And the blonde was starting to show through in chunks. Awesome. Then I just thought what the heck, I’ll just become a brunette and start over. {I started sun-in-ing my hair when I was 12 and I’ve never looked back. I’m not even sure what color it’s supposed to be}. The brunette look was… nice. All it took was one date to realize that was not the look for me. I was so excited to wear my new yellow dress with red lipstick, and I got dressed and felt like I looked like I was trying to look {unsuccessfully} like a pin up girl. Don’t get me wrong, I love pin up girls. But I’m kind of a mess… it would be a loose relation at best. Annnnyway, I was working on designing some business cards for a local salon where my sister-in-law Breeze works. I love that salon. Great people, and it’s beautiful. And, thankfully, Paula rescued me. So, there you have it. 4 different shades, 3 boxes of color, 2 weeks, hours at a salon, and a partridge in a pear tree. {And, I’m pretty much right where I started. Sans-roots, I guess. And Paula gave me a pitty trim. ;o) }. The moral of the story is next year, when I decide to do this again, tell me to just go buy a new headband and get over it. xo, linds