a blog launched to laugh at my own expense

Went Brunette. Instant Regret.

I peaked early. My life was at its pinnacle at the age of seven. I soaked up my fourteen minutes of fame as a child model with the world's best bowl cut. Only difference between my bowl cut then and now? My hair color. My life peaked when my hair was naturally blonde. 

I have spent the last sixteen years fighting fate and my grandmother's hair related comments in pursuit of my childhood blonde. I seek tropical vacations so I can drown my hair in a lemon peroxide concoction and then, when my hair turns that petrifying shade of orange, immediately denying tampering with my hair by saying, "Oh my hair has always been this blonde! Look at my baby pictures!"  I also gravitate towards all headgear as a defense mechanism in battle against root growth. And I do not pose next to my platinum blonde bombshell of the sister in family pictures which is beneficial for my hair, body type and my overall self confidence.

 So a couple weeks ago, at which I can now positively say was the absolute climax of my life crisis, I decided I should go brunette. Feeling inspired by Lindsey Lohan and uninspired by my monthly salon tab, I made the announcement. As per usual. only a few people took note. 

First I told my father. He said, " I will believe it when I see it. And, No Sarah, I am not paying for it"

Then I told my work friends. Since we all work REALLY hard and every morning I have a new declaration of my life's current direction,  they said something along the lines of "That's great Sarah? Are you finished talking yet?"

Then I text messaged my best friend. Thankfully the state of Wyoming gets cell phone reception. Maggie said, "ARE YOU CRAZY. DON'T DO IT!!!!!!! IN YOUR SOUL YOU ARE PLATINUM BLONDE. THIS IS A MISTAKE!!!!! DON'T DO IT!!!! SARAH RESPOND ASAP" 

Then I told my hair dresser who said, " You are still going to have to pay for it when you hate it". She was right about both parts of that sentence.

When my hair dresser turned the chair around I cried. (Somewhat hysterically). Not tears of joy. Tears of "Why did you DO THIS?". Pure tears. Full-on saline facial. The problem was 1. My hair was brown and 2. I had internalized visions of myself looking like Olivia Palermo. However, brown haired Sarah looked nothing like Olivia Palermo. (I blame bad lighting)

I wept the entire metro ride home. And by wept I mean, avoided reflective surfaces and tried to convince myself that I did in fact look like brown haired/supermodel/fashion-lebrity Olivia Palermo. The color blind homeless man who lives at my metro stop told me I was beautiful (and then asked for $10) so I didn't take that as resounding support. When fell into bed, my stuffed animals barely recognized me. To borrow a line from one of my favorite rappers: Brown Hair, Do Care. 

My brown hair debacle was true in form to most all Sarah Real World Challenges in that I had to wait until my next paycheck to make any sort of progress on the issue. Pay check to pay check living is not conducive to exploratory hair color adventures. So I buckled in for four weeks of brown hair. I couldn't respond to any of my Tinder messages for fear that they would recognize me as a blonde haired farce through the message screen. Luckily no males messaged me so that crisis was avoided entirely. And nobody mistook me for Hillary Duff, not that anyone did before, but the dream was no closer to coming true with brown hair. 

Since my hair was so over processed and nutrient deprived from the blonde  it couldn't hold onto the deepest of the brown hues for long. My 'friends' grew tired of me complaining about my brown hair which they still considered to be somewhat blonde. Obviously they were brunettes and their comments fell on my naturally deaf blonde ears.

While I waited impatiently for both my next paycheck and the brown to fade, I learned a series of coping mechanisms, the best of which involved an out of season straw hat.  

From my brown hair experience, I have learned that I talk a big game about not caring about appearances. I also learned that boys do not buy drinks for girls with brown hair and bangs. It's not me. It's society. Or maybe it's just boys don't buy me drinks. Either way it was unsettling settling my own bar tabs.

As I deal with my brown hair PTSD and the resulting loss of Instagram likes, I wonder .... 
Are there points in heaven for natural hair color? Like do I win a contest? Because if not, I am staying over processed until I am old. Like 25. Worst case scenario I continue down my unsustainable path and eventually lose all of my hair. But then I would just need a platinum wig and wouldn't be able to exercise. Which are both fine by me.


1 comment

  1. Boys just don't buy you drinks, I guess. I got loads of attention with my natural raven hair and bangs. I went a little lighter and the attention has more or less remained the same.