So item #93 on my Life Menu was to have red hair. I have wanted red hair since I saw Annie skip across my Grandma's giant TV screen while we discovered the wonders of HBO. Then I fell madly in love with Anne with an 'e' and so desired her red locks. Not to mention seeing Rose on the Titanic as her curly waves of amber frosted over sitting on that headboard.
I have a problem.
I attempted self-coloring of my hair in college. As Viv would say in Pretty Woman (another red head), "Big mistake. Huge." I ended up with orange hair for a while as I attempted to grow it out. Wretched mistake.
Recently I asked my stylist to gradually take me from my normal highlighted blonde to a deeply soulful red. I wanted a multi-faceted red people. Not the flat, one color red you see. No, I wanted fire, heat, warmth, shine...I wanted it all. And when she first took off the foil, washed and dried it, the red she put into my blonde looked beautiful.
And then it didn't.
It wasn't her fault. It just started to fade. And made my skin look, well, blech. My freckles that I adore started to look jaundiced. My eyebrows looked stark. I just didn't feel like myself. It just felt wrong.
I had a chocolate brown color about five years ago. It was stunning. It had golden blonde highlights in it and shone like crazy. I loved it. I pulled it off without any problem. But this red just wasn't doing it for me.
So, when I returned to Dee the following visit I regretfully informed her that we must return me to my blonde state. And it was good. And it was right. Every time I see my hair in the mirror now I sigh with relief. It looks the way it is supposed to. It looks like me.
So, #93, I tried you. I failed. But I tried. And I will cross you off. Not for lack of trying. Not for lack of interest. But because I went there and discovered that at my core I am all sunshine and light. Blonde and beautiful. From birth to death. Amen.