I’ve been every shade of colour minus green since I was thirteen.
The only sign of my natural hair colour for six years has been my eyebrows, which have always clashed with my bright red, ‘could be mistaken for a traffic light’ hair. The best comment I’ve ever had came from two boys on a bike. “Cherry bakewell!”, they yelled at me. It took me a moment, but it gave me a good laugh.
(This is a cherry bakewell just in case it’s a UK only thing and you’re like ‘what the living fuck is a cherry bakewell?’)
It took a long time for me to dye my hair up to the brightest red I could manage, and every time I’d toy with the idea of dyeing it back I’d remind myself of that. I did, however, last year flirt with pinky red, purple and orange hair and, while I loved it, the upkeep was too much. And that’s a big reason that I’m saying goodbye, I’m tired of the constant pink stain, the maintenance, even down to only being able to have red nails as every hair wash would stain my nails and my hands. I long for the day I can have nude gels and keep them that way!!
I won’t lie either, sometimes I scroll through insta and see beautiful, long, healthy brown hair and I feel the envy. But, for me, there’s a deeper reasoning to it than getting fed up of looking like Rihanna at the end of BBHMM every time it rains.
The past six years has brought a lot of change, I’ve gone through a few different stages. My nicknames have always been ‘red’, ‘red head’ or something of the like. But most of all, people that have just met me would describe me as some sort of wild vixen. Specifically the men here. And also my hair has always felt like my crown, it stood out and made me a little different (see: weird).
The body renews itself every seven years. Chakras work in crisis years of seven. The seven year itch is a thing. Uranus fucks us up every seven years…So I have a year.
A year to grow out as much of my old life as possible. Because that’s how it feels. You know how women who have just had a break up cut their hair? I thought about it, but I love my hair this length, so I’m just gonna keep growing it. Talking of length, in the past six years I’ve gone from above shoulder to waist length, and cut back again. In the past six years I’ve gone from dark-ish red to bright, pillarbox red. In the past six years I’ve grown from a dependent kid with little direction to a slightly more mature kid with a lot more direction and pocketful of experiences.
I’ve gone through stupid life choices and the questionable people that came along with them, I’ve gone through years of education to find something that truly fulfills me, multiple highs and lows, moving, travels, ‘love’ and the loss that came with it. Basically: I’ve been through a lot and most of it makes me kinda sad when I think back on it. Not only that, a persona followed with it (and still does today) that I wish I could peel off like onion skin.
So there. I’m really enjoying the process of growing it out so far. I have no idea what it’s going to look like when I get to the point of cutting off the last red bits.
Maybe I’ll just end up going green…