I’m growing out my hair these days. Yes, thank you for your condolences. It’s hard. I had it cut really short, Mia Farrow-short, a year and a half ago and loved the haircut for over a year. Then I tired of it. Surprise! I change my hair a lot; I’ve had long hair, a bob, a kind-of-short haircut and the aforementioned Mia-cut in the last three years or so. Since I discovered hairdye in my teens I’ve also changed my color quite frequently. Highlights, lowlights, brown, chestnut, almost black, red and, on one occasion, really ridiculously, Ronald McDonald-y gaudy orange. By mistake, yes.
Right now is the first time in maybe 15 years that I have my natural hair color. My particular brand of brown is usually just referred to as mousy. And mousy it is. It feels very Icelandic. It immediately brings to mind that I live in a country which hardly sees the light of day for months at a time and where the skies can be grey for weeks on end. Like all the color has been sucked out of the world. That’s my hair. (Yes, I’m feeling a bit dramatic today).
I’ve been wanting to color it for a year or so, but have held off. It is quite liberating, not having to worry about roots, and my frugal soul hates how expensive it is to get my hair colored at a salon. The main reason I’ve been holding off though is my impending trip to India (in 36 days and counting). I’ve learned the hard way that hairdye and strong sunshine don’t really mix all that well. The yellowish grey that ensues doesn’t do much for me. But I’m itching and aching to color my hair red again. Ohhh, red.
I think it’s some sort of cruel genetic joke that I’m not naturally a redhead. Seriously. I have the greenish eyes, the light skin and the freckles. Where the hell is the red hair? I’ve been cheated. So, I think I’ll be having a hot date with a bottle of hairdye as soon as I return from India in March.
In the meantime I’ll be enviously eyeing pictures such as these…