Like, really blond.
When my brother and I were kids, our hair was so light it was practically white.
But even as I grew up and it naturally got darker, I was still a blond.
Until I moved to Alaska.
Where the sun chooses to take an extended leave of absence every winter.
And then, my summer sun locks suddenly became something else.
Somehow, I went from this:
To this:
I don’t even know what to call it now. I obviously still have some blond highlights, and I cringe at the thought of calling myself a brunette (not because I have anything against brunettes, but because – I’m a blond!), but… I really don’t know what it is.
Dirty blond?
You know – like really really dirty.
Either way, I miss my blond locks.
But I don’t have the patience to dye it. The upkeep and time and money and hassle and damage to my hair.
Yeah, I want nothing to do with that.
And besides, the more “green” I become, the less interest I have in exposing myself to a bunch of chemicals for no good reason besides vanity.
So, here I sit.
With a cup of yogurt and chamomile tea hiding out in my hair under a shower cap.
Slowly escaping in sticky little drips all over my face.
I’m a hot mess.
I read somewhere online that chamomile was a natural hair lightener. It said it would take several treatments to see a difference, but that it was far less damaging than lemon juice.
I figured it seemed like something worth trying.
And it’s not exactly the worst thing I’ve ever done.
You know, besides the mess I made in the bathroom I literally just scrubbed clean last night.
Of course, it did just now dawn on me…
I’m going to Mr. Coffee’s BBQ tonight.
And I’m going to smell like I bathed in chamomile tea.
Because… I kind of did.
Brilliant.
The things we do in the name of beauty…
