Today was a great day. I got my blonde touched up by my friend E. She’s great at hair. When I go to her salon to have my hair done, it’s like I forget that I’m getting my hair done. It’s just like hanging out with a friend. We talk and catch up, with a little shampoo and conditioner in between. It’s great. She made me look AWESOME.
After years of dyeing my own hair and trimming my own locks, you forget how great it is to be pampered. Let someone else do it. Sometimes, it’s important to treat yourself to a mani/pedi or a massage. I would never have thought that having someone else cut my hair would be put into the luxury category, but after years of not even thinking about it, it’s really nice to have someone who genuinely likes doing hair do your hair. Also, being blonde can be tricky business. It’s a lot of science to get it right, and there are some things that only trained professionals should do (like making shoes. You should definitely not try to make your own shoes. It ends badly).
Every time I get the BLONDE refreshed, I reassess the status of the social experiment. I have changed. Would I have changed regardless of my hair color? Probably, but there is no control group for this scenario, so I’m kind of doing some educated guessing. Would my normal, redheaded self get into the same predicaments? Perhaps. However, there are certain things that I think are distinctly BLONDE. Having to fight for people to think you’re smart. Having to get people to look you in the eye and not the boobs. Changing one aspect of my appearance has led me to more questions about myself as a person. It’s shocking how much I define myself by my physical appearance. I’m almost ashamed of my superficial tendencies. Maybe it’s all the time I’ve spent in Los Angeles, but I’m certainly more aware of my appearance now than I ever have been before. Being aware of my appearance doesn’t necessarily make me vain. It makes me conscious of my thoughts. I had feared that this process would make me vain and self-centered. And that blogging about my experiences would make me seem vapid and self-obsessed. I hope that it hasn’t, but if you think that, then why the fuck are you reading this? I think I’m happier as a blonde and I’m more willing to live in the land of the unknown. Not everything is planned and not everything is under your control. Some things will go horribly. Some things will go extraordinarily well. You can’t really tell and hair color probably isn’t a variable in these equations, but you never can tell. You really never can tell…
Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols:
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