Frivolity of Hair Color Addictions

Note: Last post was so serious and political and such, and now I post on something completely trivial. Such is the state of my mind. Feel free to not read. I just feel like typing. :)

I think I've developed the redhead sickness. I'm addicted to getting my hair that perfect shade of red. Nothing seems bright or true enough without crossing into cartoon/comic villain land.

You see, naturally, I'm a blondish brown. It's a color declared "Ash blonde" or "Honey Wheat" on haircolor boxes. It's where blondes insist I'm a brunette, but brunettes refuse to acknowledge me as anything but a blonde. Suffice it to say, it's a very English/Irish peasant girl sort of color. Bah, here's a picture:

If you could just ignore the fact that I'm a little drunk in the picture (hey, it was Dragon*Con! And I was in costume!), I think it's a really good picture of my hair. See what I mean, though? Hard to classify as blonde or brunette. Neither group will have me.

So I've given up on trying to classify myself, and joined a much more fun group: the redheads! When I went off to grad school, I decided I wanted to experiment for the first time with my hair color and started dyeing (dying?) it. First I went for as dramatic a change as I could:

That's right. I dyed my hair black. It was quite dramatic, made my green eyes pop, but really upset my mother. I only kept it for a few months, and while I had fun with it, it just didn't suit me; I'm no Dita to pull off the blonde to black. So I decided I needed to transition back to light colors, went to a stylist (at Great Clips, natch) and asked her to move me in the right direction back to my natural color. She explained that to go from black to blonde/brown would damage the heck out of my hair, and suggested I try a color in between. I thought she'd suggest a nice caramel color, but instead she asked if I'd ever considered being a redhead. I laughingly explained that my then boyfriend (now husband) loved redheads, and I'd be up to try it. So she went for a nice shiny burgundy color.

I instantly fell in love. It was dramatic, it turned heads, and it made me feel like a true Scotch Irish girl. James drooled over it, my friends insisted it was so me, I was hooked. But my mother hated.

You see, my mother is a natural redhead. Copper hair, blue eyes, freckles EVERYWHERE. She said she just wanted me to embrace my natural color and stop playing around with my hair, but I think she liked being the only redhead in the family. So I went back to my normal color. I colored it my normal color, let it grow out, chopped off any residual treated hair, and thought that was it. But I missed being a redhead.

So about two years ago, I decided I was going back to red. But this time I'd find the perfect color for me. I scoured the boxes of color, looking for the one that was closest to my mother's natural color. I figured if I'm her daughter, and I have close to her coloring, then her hair color should work best for me. I grabbed two boxes (as my hair was quite long by then) and got to work.

It was perfect. It looked so natural. People came up to me in the grocery store regularly to comment on how beautiful my hair was, how it was such a gorgeous color, and was it real? Addiction begun.

Since then, I've regularly dyed my hair red. I've experimented with a couple of brands and shades to find the best one for me (L'Oreal Superior Preference, Intense Red Copper), and even planned my dyeing schedule to get just the right amount of fade for my wedding last year. I know how much it fades and when it needs to be refreshed to have the most vibrant color for special occasions.

Now here is the addiction. Even my perfect color has started to seem not quite "red" enough. It's too copper, too auburn, too ... brown. I start thinking it's just a normal brown with hints of red. It's not really "RED". I laughed at my friend Erica when she insisted her intensely red hair was too brown for her. What was she thinking? It's the most vibrant shade of red I'd seen that was outside of a box of Crayolas or comic books. But I think I understand now. Even the brightest shades I find in the drugstore are starting to seem too bland, too muddled, too ordinary.

See the great thing about being a redhead is being unique. You stand out. Even if you're sitting quietly in a corner at a party, you draw attention. If you're quiet, at least your hair is vivacious. And everyone knows redheads are crazy, in a totally good way, of course. But if you can pass for a brunette, if your vibrant hair color has faded, you feel faded, too.

You see? It's an addiction. I'm writing about the stimulating effects of hair color, for the gods' sake! And when the vibrancy/high fades, you start thinking of how to get that next coloring/high. I'm relying on my husband to keep me from crossing over into too much of the cartoon reds, and I'm relying on my fear of damaging my hair with too many chemicals to keep me from indulging this addiction too much. But am I alone? Am I the only one (besides Erica of course) who gets addicted to the silly, superficial, easy things?