Today I died my hair. And as I did it I realized I hadn't dyed my hair since we lived in Ft. Wayne. (Because that's how I remember what happened when. Not by year, by the surrounding events. Eventually I work from there to what the actual year was.) So, for people not inside my head, 2007.
Before that, well, things were all over the place and sometimes awful (And then usually from a box). And then I got sick of dealing with it and I figured I'd just see what the color did. I used to think I was a mousy, blah brown but now I like it. It's... me! .... But it's also a little boring. Long. Brown. Even once I stopped coloring my hair, I always had a good fun cut to keep me pleased. Now it's longer and I can sort of do some neat things but they take time... So no.
I've felt the itch for a change but knew a salon trip wasn't happening anytime soon. OK, so boxed color.
Oh no, I can't.
I'll lose the stuff I love about my mousy brown!
Oh, but wait, maybe just part of it. Maybe go dark and neat there... Ooooh...
So, today I dyed the under part of my hair. Can't mess that up too bad. Pretty basic. And hidden, if needed. After mixing the goo, putting on the weird gloves, sectioning the to-be-dyed stuff, applying the goo, waiting, rinsing, conditioning, rinsing, and blow drying I got to see what the damage was.
And it was nothing. Literally. I dyed my hair the exact color it already was. Just a little shinier. I dyed my hair the exact color it already was.
I swear, it looked darker. The box looked a lot darker. It was the brown next to black, "Darkest Brown"! Darkest. Brown.
It would appear that the universe does not want me to change my hair color. And that I am an almost-spot-on "darkest brown".
