Bald

I am fucking lucky that I am not bald.


Why?
Well, in the past year I have done too many things to my poor hair.
I was eighteen years old. I started off with long (like middle of my back) blond hair.
The only dying I had done to my hair was keeping the roots the same color as the rest of it.
(And the double bleaching fiasco in eight grade because I wanted to dye my hair
blue but did not realize that blue and yellow made green.....but that's a different story.)
I am now nineteen years old. My hair is barely resting on my shoulders and is a light brown color with a red tint to it and blond streaks/roots. Different yes? Very.

(This information has been collected through Jonathan, pictures, and my two close friends -- and that girl I am not friend's with anymore that thinks we still are....ew.)

Two months of being eighteen, I decide to have Jon die my hair strawberry blond. I hate it. My hair does not really look different.
First 'Heather cut' (that means I cut my own hair...).
My length is "end of bra" level.
Two more months and I am bored.
I want radical change. I pick up a box of "midnight black" hair color.
My face is pale, but it was 'radical' enough to make me happy.
A month later I cut my hair again.
It is right above where my chest pops out.
I actually wait long enough for my hair to fade. I have some blond roots. It is a dark brown.
I go black again.
Three weeks later, I want to go red.
This is the first time I let someone other than Jon or my mother dye my hair.
That girl jacks up my hair color.
I had flaming red roots and maroon hair. Her hair, which I dyed, came out great.
Five hours later I apply a little black to the roots to calm them down.
A month later I go back black.
I cut my hair again. Shoulder length.
Two weeks later, I cut my hair again. Chin level.
My face is expanding. I have yet to notice. I think it looks good. I was wrong.
I keep going shorter and shorter like for the next two weeks.
My hair is now a little past the top of my ears. I looked like a damn mom.
Around Thanksgiving, I let my close friend Rachel convince me to get extensions.
I think it is a great idea because I have finally noticed that my hair is way too short and I really have started looking like an overweight soccer mom. Not the look an eighteen year old wants to have, right? You're damn right!
Extensions are smart is your hair is not extremely thick and if you have an extra hundred or two to shell out on 'fake human hair'. Oh, and make sure you get someone to put them in who knows what they are doing. <--- That last tip helps the most. I learned the hard way. Me and my friend Rachel go to Sallys Beauty Supply store and pick up one package of extensions; we do not get hair glue or anything else. We get to my friend's house and realize that we need something to make it stick to my head because the extensions we bought cannot be "woven" in. I am pissed. I want them in my head as soon as possible. I do not care if that kid CJ at work called me a "hot mom", point was I looked like A MOM! So on the way to my house we go to Wal-mart and we buy some super glue. Yes, I did type super glue. This is how dumb I am, and how cruel my friend is for not stopping me. (Well to defend her she is not a bright girl. Seriously, I am not being mean. I told her I was thinking of going to an Adult Education School and she said, "I didn't know you wanted to be a porn star." Yes, a PORN STAR. I asked her what she was talking about and she said, "You know ADULT EDUCATION.....like ADULT VIDEOS??! Duh." Shhh, she is a nice girl and we have been friends for almost three years now.) Anyway, we get back to my house and start gluing the damn things in my head. Half of the hair in we realize that my hair is ten times thicker than the extensions. Uh oh, I have a thick top and at the bottom there is stringy hair. I looked like I was wearing a retarded hair helmet. Her brilliant idea: LETS THIN YOUR HAIR! Now I could use thinner arms, a thinner set of thighs, a thinner stomach, but my hair? That was the only place that was allowed to be thick. I agree anyway. By thinning my hair she was really saying, "Heather can I cut out chunks of your hair?" So yes, we started to just cut out chunks of my, once, beautiful hair. I was down to nothing in many many areas on my scalp. It was sad, but at the time I was 'making a sacrifice for beauty'. I should be punched more often. The result was decent. There was one spot on my head that needed an extra piece, but all in all it was passable. Problem was, using super glue on your scalp makes your head itch in a manner that only a junkie trying to kick heroin would understand. Also, I could not keep them in that long because I did not have the funds or knowledge to keep the extensions healthy. So after a month (and those extensions were getting ratty) I had to cut them out. I cried at the result. I had patches of hair. My hair was just at my ears. The top of my head, and underneath was missing massive chunks of hair. I cried for three days straight and did not leave the house for a week. I hated the way I looked. I could not look in the mirror without cursing myself. Especially because I did not know why I had extensions until the day I cut them out. I was furious at my own stupidity. I do not fully even know why I put them in my head. Lucky for me and my friend that I do not remember it because I may kick both our asses. (Liar Liar moment: I'm kicking my own ass. Lol.)
I am at January now. My hair is growing nice and is healthier than it has been in years. I decide towards the end of the month that my roots are growing in too much and I have way blond roots and nasty black hair. I felt like trailer trash. I had to fix that. A girl has to stay as cute as possible.
Why did I think I could go back blond, being dark haired, from box dye I bough at damn Wal-Mart?! More importantly, why didn't my mother stop me? I guess they thought my hair was not going to turn out as horrible as it did.
My hair was bright orange with piss blond roots.
It looked like my hair was on fire and someone had peed on my roots.
(Fortunately for me, I deleted the picture Jonathan told me to take. & he deleted his copy of the picture too!)
For the first time in my life I was so shocked that I actually could not cry. I ran downstairs and begged my mom and grammy to help me. I screamed about how I could not go out in public and I had a date the next day. They said I had to wait until the morning to get it all sorted out.
I put 'unred' in my hair and then dyed my hair a light brown-ish color that had blond streaks in it so it would mask and blend with the color that it had become. It is lovely. I think it is my second favorite hair color.
But throughout the past year I have learned that a. I love my natural hair color and b. I should thank a higher power (or whatever) that I still have hair on my head.