Anyone who knows me, knows I am a little too obsessed with my hair. It use to come to my shoulers and have a little bit a layers. Until, the day after prom in high school, I hacked it off to about my chin and dyed it reddish orange. More red than orange but still. I had my red hair for awhile, until right before my freshman year of college started and then dyed it this deep burgundy color. I got bangs, kinda flipped it out sometimes and it was still kind of short. There was more than likely a bandanna tied up some way or another in there too. I was one of those kids, whose closet was full of band shirts and low slung Dickie like pants and, yet, it still took me forever to decide what to wear.

Cursive? No, how about Thursday? Okay, Thursday it is. Wait, but which Thursday shirt?

Yeah, I was always on my way to the Metro or the Fireside to see some band or another and acting all pretentious about, um…everything. I was, most definitely, not one of those douchey, obnoxious scene kids with like 500 million buttons, 3 studded belts on every which way and two different color Converse. Oh gosh, just thinking about it cracks me up.

Anyway, back to my hair, not too long after, I started going through a really rough time. A lot was happening and I became borderline obsessive with exercising and food and lost a bunch of weight. I cut my hair even shorter and dyed it black. I guess the black represented the color of my soul or some nonsense. HAHAHA. Totally just kidding, but it was dyed black. I look back on it now and laugh, but it really wasn’t too funny.

It’s been about 4 years since then. I can tell because around the time I started dating the boy, I was practically out of my “funk”. All the color has grown out and I’m my natural light brown color. It’s past the middle of my back with lots of long layers. I get lots of compliments on how pretty my hair is and I love it. I’m very self conscious about other aspects of myself, more than anyone really knows, so it’s nice when others notice something other than my “flaws”. I freak out at the thought of cutting it and it takes me forever to get up the nerve to go to the salon even just for a trim. I’m always afraid someone will mess it up and then what will I have? Confidence doesn’t come as easy to me, but I’m working on it and I’ll get there.

It’s interesting thinking about how much it’s changed in the past 5-6 years and how much I’ve changed. I’ve unknowingly at the time marked each change in my life, with some sort of change to my hair.

Funny.

P.S. From over a year ago. This is all you get since I’m not ready to come out of the blogging closet!