I was curious. I'd never been a redhead. I was fascinated with the look of vintage curls. (Did blondes really have more fun?) Would it go with my skin tone? Would it make me look older or younger? Why don't I like my natural color?
The last question is easy to answer. As a child I had blonde hair. Sun bleached, wonderful blonde hair. Then it started to change to brown. Not chestnut or some other exotic word for brown. Just brown. Boring brown. Blah brown. I hated it. Since then I've changed that color
The color choice was easy. I didn't want bright red for this first adventure. I wanted something red but safe. So I chose burgundy. It's red but also brown.
Now I must explain this pic. I'm not standing there ridiculously posing by pointing at nothing. I took this for my Facebook profile pic to interact with my cover photo on Facebook Timeline. Which is something you'll never see because none of you will go set up your Timeline. A little irritating... But I digress.
Since the color change Rowan has made a point of saying to me almost every day, "You still have red hair." She doesn't like it. She's the only one who doesn't like it. We frequently have conversations about it. Like this morning before school.
"You still have red hair."
"Yes, Rowan. I like it."
"Did you ask everyone?"
"Yes." Not really.
"Even the bad guys?"
"I don't know any bad guys. But if I did I wouldn't ask if they liked my hair." Maybe I would.
"Satan's a bad guy. You could ask him."
"I definitely won't be asking if Satan likes my hair. What color do you think it should be?"
"I might do that in the Spring."
"Well, until then you could just make it brown." She said brown. She has no idea how hard I've tried to get away from brown. Devil child.
"Oh look. Your bus is here."