We are never happy with what we have, that’s why my love affair with hair bleach started long ago. Born brunette, with dark brown, wavy hair I dyed it every shade under the sun looking for my signature style. I found it, when I was 19; my hair stylist suggested I take my blonde streaks circa 2006 and take the plunge to full on blonde. I had my concerns, would it damage my hair beyond repair? Would it pull too much orangey/gold and make me look like a shaved lion?
Would I be able to afford the upkeep? Not one to be indecisive I tried it and the rest is history. I was a different person with blonde hair and it became an obsession. I felt sexier, more confident, I exuded a certain allure that apparently was only convincing to me. If I was a numbers girl I’d say without a doubt I get a lot more compliments when my hair is dark, logistically speaking based solely on this crude evidence it probably does flatter me more. Makes sense on paper but my blonde blinders are on so my heart bleeds 40 volume/bleach cocktail.
My features are dark, I am half Latina, and light hair certainly doesn’t run in my family so yes, I know I’m not fooling anyone. Actually, I am fooling someone…myself. Blonde allows me a certain persona; I feel like a different person, not in a United States of Tara way but more like a Sasha Fierce way. The irony is my husband prefers brunettes; so occasionally when I’m feeling especially romantic I drag my feet to the salon and come out with chocolate brown tresses.
I can only tolerate it for so long before I get that “itch.” I have tunnel vision for the Marilyns, the Pamelas, the Anna Nicoles; the Dollys and anxiously await the long, arduous process of reverting back to my old ways. After a particularly fast U-turn from dark brown to platinum my stylist and I considered giving her a pseudo power of attorney barring her from dark hair color in the future; in case I ever get the inkling to destroy all the hard work it takes to be blonde. Once my hue resembles that of golden wheat, cool beige or icy platinum I feel a sense of relief.
I admire the sultriness and natural beauty of brunettes and sometimes wish I was more practical. However, these are the cards I’ve been dealt- we can’t decide who or what we love it just happens. My love requires 3 week touch ups, UV protection and avoidance of chlorine…a small price to pay for what it gives me in return.