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December 31, 2005
The Story of How I Woke Up Yesterday and Decided to "Go Natural" and Today I Have Hair the Colour of a Watermelon
I decided on Friday that I’d had enough of the world of illusion. I’m no longer going to fluff up my self esteem with mascara, hide my fear with blush and build confidence with bleach. Nup, I decided to put all that colouring-in away and go natural.
On a deeper level still, I want to be my rawest self, to not hide behind any facade, and a great way to encourage this process along is to become entirely comfortable in my true appearance.
I am fully aware that I won’t get a second glance in a bar without alluring eyeshadow and ready-for-sex cheeks… but I’ve come to realise, nothing good ever came of that kind of attention anyway. And if that is what social interaction relies on, I’m over it and I’m out to make new friends.
Step one: No make up. Easy enough. Sure, a couple of pimples on show and an uneven colouring in skin, but really, I look okay without the shades.
Step two: Visit the hairdresser….
Now, If I had the choice to never cut my hair again, I would.
But what does a girl do when she is looking at a mop of blonde that is growing out sidewards with roots the colour of the other side of the colour spectrum?
I can’t really just let it grow and grow, I need to take my head to a hairdresser who knows what he is doing and who can take this old me and blend it into the real me. So, although getting your hair cut isn’t really a natural process, at least he can make me look natural - right??
So, my aim? To discover the true shade of my hair. I’m guessing it is a dark blonde/mousey brown, so I pointed to the closest thing on the hair chart. “And chuck in a few darker streaks while you’re at it - i want NATURAL.”
He says… “leave it to me”.
BIG MISTAKE. Why do I not listen to this warning sign?????
I hand over 200 smakaroos, kindly thank the hairdresser, calmly proceed to my car, drive off for a few blocks, then look at myself in the review mirror and start bawling.
Was this a nasty joke? Is natural this hideous? I look like a grey terrior. It’s cut like cutting is going out of fashion AND I feel like he purposely gave me the ugliest shade this side of mouse brown. This is like a grey mouse, not a cute honey brown one.
Plan A: Get rid of product:
I head to the closest house with hot water - my folks, where I wash the mountains of product out of my hair.. note to hairdresser: product is hardly natural (especially the part where you finished it off with a straightener) - I already had straight hair???
Plan B: Acceptance:
I cry and cry til I realise this is so silly to be crying about, so I stand up and look in the mirror, and off I cry again…. I want to accept looking like this, but I feel like someone else did this to me, I wasn’t born this way, so bugger acceptance.
Plan C: Lesson in life
To be so attached to beauty is the lesson my hairdresser wanted to teach me. That if I feel so strongly about how others perceive me then I have to address this self consciousness and look at how I am trapped by the illusion of beauty and fall victim to judging others as I now feel judged by the world. Or maybe the hairdresser is just a bloody *!@)?!….?
Plan D: Cut it myself
I found my mum’s sewing scissors and starting gently chopping into the angular chunky pieces that hang from the left side of my head, I taper these out, yes yes… looking a bit better…
Plan E: Hide
Next day, (this morning), I wear a headband. Yes! I can do this for 6 months.
Plan F: Remove orange
I slap some toner on the electric-carrot coloured roots, to try to at least have it match the rest of my hair.
Plan G: Get rid of grey
I spray on some ‘sun in’ which lighten the areas which appear to be like salt and pepper.
Plan H: Cover with crazyiness
I strategically place some coral pink dye I have at home in streaks on the front to warm up the tone, then put a racing stripe down the back of my hair, just to see what it looks like.
Plan I: Phone a friend
Head to Narelle’s house for an honest opinion and advice. She doesn’t even pretend, just gives me the ‘pity eyes’ and helps me to formulate a plan. She also says she doesn’t like the racing stripe. Drat.
Plan J: Dye it myself
Go to chemist, buy brown dye to cover the lot. Read the West Australian while I wait for my cash out to see the dux of my school (10 year reunion missed a week ago) and how well she is doing in law in Sydney, then turn to page 6 to see another girl from school who has inherited a 45 million dollar fortune and is getting married… receive dye and leave feeling a little bit like a loser.
Plan K: Experiment at the last minute
At Narelle’s I decide to dye my entire hair the coral pink, just to see what it looks like… add a little product just to cope, and decide to stick with what is now officially named ‘watermelon’.
So much for natural…… sigh.
Posted by nat at December 31, 2005 3:59 PM
Comments
"look at myself in the review mirror and start balling." We would also have accepted 'bawling'.
Looks like you had a total self-transfiguration hair experience. kewlz.
Posted by: Mark at January 7, 2006 1:14 AM
Oh - I thought the term 'balling' was derived from the noun eyeballs - and that when one cries the action is focused on the water running over the eyeballs. The balls become bigger and redder and hence you are in the process of balling. In addition, this is often coupled with a noise that sounds distinctly similar to the sound of a fast bouncing ball.
However, I have changed the spelling for the greater good's acceptance. :)
Posted by: natty at January 7, 2006 12:24 PM
