The End of An Era - Sex~Kitten.net

Let's face it, I've been through a lot of haircolors in my lifetime. Starting out with highlights in high school, I moved on to the Manic Panic rainbow of colors as soon as I moved out of my folks house, around the age of 19. Fist I was Rose Red (which turned out to be hot pink), then I moved onto some of the reds in order to keep my job as a barista, then Tangerine, which was a pretty orange-ish color. I went through so many colors that my hair became knotted up in this blob of rainbow colors. When I was bored, I'd dye my hair. It was fun until I realized there were very few jobs I could get with such crazy hair. Finally I went back to my basic brown, which worked for awhile until I realized my love life totally sucked.

About eight years ago, on a whim, I decided to go blonde in order to impress a man I had a huge crush on. Yes, it sounds dumb, but the result was even dumber, with my hair turning out that radioactive orange color that dark-haired people get when they try to go blonde in one process. It was heinous. Upon seeing my hair experiment, my mother insisted I go see her colorist, who would turn me into a real blonde. I agreed since she was agreeing to pick up the bill. I'd always done my hair by myself or with friends and had never had it colored at a salon at this point.

Sure enough, Stephanie, the colorist, fixed me up and upon leaving the salon, I was a real blonde. My life would be changed from this point on. I began to get more work from the escort agency I was working with and men were- poof! - magically interested in me. And they think women are shallow.

By this point, my sisters and my mother were all blonde as well, so we became this family of blondes. Annoying as it was, I saw being blonde as a way to defy stereotypes. Sure my hair could be blonde, but I didn't have to act "blonde." People would meet me expecting me to be stupid, but instead I'd impress them with my smarts. I'd act all badass instead of like the goody-two-shoes they wanted me to be. It was empowering to be a blonde and instead of being flirty and ditzy, I was angry and intellectual.

Despite what people say, they want stereotypes to be reinforced and I felt it. I never realized how political a haircolor could be until I began suffering the negative aspects of being blonde. The people in the workforce who felt I couldn't do a good job because I was fair-haired or the dark-haired bitches who refused to shake my hand or talk to me because blondes aren't part of their scene.

Well guess what bitches? I'm one of you now.

After eight years of exhausting touch-ups, mismatched roots, highlights, and scrounging Craigslist for free haircolor workshops, I decided to throw in the towel. I walked into my regular salon and told my colorist, "I'm ready to go dark." It wasn't a decision I made lightly, as I had been mulling it over for quite some time now. I'd stare at brunettes an think "that's a nice color", "that's not so bad", or "she looks really good." In fact, the past few trips to get my color done I've requested to go dark, but the color didn't turn out quite the way I wanted and eventually washed out to my regular blonde. This time I was serious, though.

Being bleach blonde is a lot harder that people might think. We see celebrities go from dark to light and back again and still have beautiful hair, but the reality isn't so pretty. My hair had become so dried out that I was unable to do anything with it and my ends were constantly brittle and weak. I had to have them cut so often that my dream of growing out my hair seemed like it would never come to fruition. The breakage, the dryness, the mismatched eyebrows, the ever-growing roots...it became too much to handle. I wanted out of the blonde club.

As I watched my hair get darker and darker at the salon that afternoon, I knew once again, my life would change. Sure, the color turned out very pretty, a chestnut brown with subtle red highlights, but once again, I was just another brunette. That night, I went out with some friends who just stared at me and didn't comment until I prodded them, "do you notice something different?"

"Yeah, your hair's red," said my friend Drew.

Mostly I got "your hair's darker", but no compliments from anyone, not even my mother and sister, who were a little taken aback at first. I was no longer a member of their club. My boyfriend says he "wants his blonde back." People who knew me as a blonde stare at me funny and say nothing. A couple of my friends did manage to say, "dark hair really suits you", as it should. I hope these people realize my blonde wasn't natural.

As for me, I'm getting used to the darker hair more and more each day. I'm almost starting to forget I was ever blonde, though I'm sure people will remind me. It may be the end of an era for me, but most of all I feel like a big weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I've got my hair back.