Back to Black

After much pressure from my peers, and out of a little curiosity of my own, I decided to dye my hair black. I bought a box of harsh chemical goodness from my local Save-Ons last night and promptly rubbed its magic all over my scalp before showering and going to bed.

The art of hair-colouring has and, I believe, always will be a mystery to me. I've been taking on this daunting task since the fateful day in grade 9 when I courageously and rebelliously bought a box of purple colour mousse (without permission!) and made the biggest mess in my bathroom ever. Even though it made my towels and bathroom fixtures look like they'd witnessed the slaughter of a thousand baby koalas, the first try didn't even make a noticeable difference in my hair, and I began to dare myself to go bolder from then on. I still have remnants of some past hair-colouring experiments/abortions. I keep them because they make me feel like a professional, like I could mix them and swatch them if I so desired, but mostly to remind myself never to go back to that colour again, since the new hue it gives my hair has never exactly matched the one on the box.

I don't recall being in my natural hair colour since grade 9, and that is far beyond my stretch of memory, as well as the memories of even my closest friends. If I ever bring up the subject of my hair in conversation (and it happens often; I fish for compliments like Darrell fishes for awkward homo erotica) my friends always tell me that I should dye it black, for the simple reason that they've forgotten what I look like with a natural hair colour. =/ Because I'm an incredibly narcissistic individual, and believed that doing what others wanted would send more compliments my way, I finally did it. I went back to being natural.

But I don't feel very natural.

I woke up this morning to menacing jet black strands framing a horrified facial expression in the mirror. It was too dark and uneven and it made my hair look like a wig reminiscent of Amy Lee (Evanescence, don't let the azn last name fool you), and it didn't make me feel like the princess I was when I had caramel-coloured locks. I abhorred my hair this morning, and I had a an inkling that everyone else shared my sentiments when they gawked at me upon arriving at school. I actually felt like such a goth chick, and was absolutely bewildered when people told me it was natural and Asian and it looks very nice. I think that a people's appearances reflects a lot of who they are and how they are feeling. That's why nice people are generally cleanly and smell good and rainbows follow them. It's also why I turn into a bitch when I look like a vampire, black hair blood-red nails and all. =/

I also did horribly on that chem quiz so I wouldn't be surprised if my skin turns white and fangs pop out within the next few days. Blood-bearers, beware.