I wasn’t allowed to dye my hair until I was sixteen. From January 31, 1997 onwards, I dyed my hair every month. And usually, it was some vicious shade of burgundy or purple. When I turned eighteen and had my first real, steady job, I treated myself to bright vibrant red highlights. I felt was fucking hot.
I kept that look up until I was 23, and decided I wanted to be a hippy and go the au natural route. SO I dyed my hair back to its natural shade of brown and haven’t looked back since.
Uh, until I uncovered a disposable camera full of my 22 year olf mug. Holy crap, I looked good.
Cue three hours at the salon.
When Madelyn woke up from her nap crying, what I think she really meant was :Damn Mama, you look fly.
Yeah, I just said fly… what, not everything from three years ago works?! Man.