So, last week I decided that I wanted to dye my hair.
I’m 24 years old, had never colored my hair in my life, and suddenly I wake up and decide that I want to be a brunette. Random, I know.
I think some of it has to do with the time of year. It was about this time of year last year that I felt the urge to have a hole punched in my nose. Something about the chill, crisp air of autumn combined with the anticipation of the holidays makes me feel very alive, like there’s extra blood in my veins. And that makes me antsy to push forward, rise up, do something, make a change. Two years ago, it meant chopping all my hair off. Last year, it meant getting my nose pierced. And this year, I guess, it meant dying my hair.
But I also wanted to dye my hair in order to say something. I’ve been making a lot of changes in my life, recently. Watching my calorie intake, taking up running, drinking more water. And it’s paying off. I went to the doctor on Friday for a physical, and in a year, I’ve lost 20 pounds, and my numbers are spectacular. I feel better. I look better. I can comfortably wear all those jeans I bought in college and got too fat for, but held onto because I wouldn’t face the fact that I was too fat. I’m running between 2.25 and 5 miles everyday.
And I am fucking proud of myself.
But the thing is, no one notices the changes I’ve made in my life unless I tell them. I don’t expect them to. The changes I made were all personal changes, with subtle outward results. I don’t begrudge the world one bit for not sitting up and taking note and cheering on my behalf. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish they would. And thus, the desire for change. I feel like a totally new person on the inside, and I want people to see that I’m a new person on the outside, too.
Which is how my blah-blah, non-descript, dishwater blonde hair…
became deep, warm, cinnamon brown hair.
Okay, not quite the drastic change I’d planned on. (Kyle was actually disappointed when he saw it. He wanted me to go bright red because according to him, “I was excited about getting to bone a redhead.”) It doesn’t so much scream, “Look at the new me!” as calmly state it. But I love it all the same. It makes me feel stronger, more definitive, like I stand with more firmness. My nose piercing made me feel like I could kick ass; my new hair makes me feel like I wouldn’t get knocked down.
And I dig that.