That's me doing my best Zoolander impersonation when I still had virgin hair--kids, if you're listening, don't dye your hair [finger wagging]! Will I ever have the patience to let my real hair grow back? Only time will tell (translates to probably not). Right now I have my strawberry roots growing in with slight hints of the old brown dye, and the bleach to cover it all up, and somehow I'm back to square one. Bleach is a strange addiction, and a hard one to break, and of course: the grass is always greener. Funny thing is I hate blonde hair, well I don't hate it, but I don't love it either. I always seem to gravitate towards the people blessed with dark luxurious locks, not porn star blondes--think less Orange County housewife, more Lou Doillon-esque Parisian badass. Added bonus, I think darker hair is much more flattering after the toe-headed phase of youth has worn off. My two options: 1. Chopping it all off and starting from scratch, or 2. Finding a gifted wonder-working colorist.
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