...That night, after watching Saturday Night Live at home, I dyed my hair black. Well, almost black. I didn't leave the stuff in my hair long enough. It smelled really bad. So I washed it out early. So most of my hair was black, and the rest just really dark brown. Now most of my hair is really dark brown. The stuff is supposed to last a month if you wash it about once a week, but I wash my hair about once a day. I thought it would have faded more in the meantime. It better be mostly gone by June 30th or so--that's my grandparents' anniversary, and I want to look respectable. Actually, a lot of people have complimented me on how my hair looks now, which is too bad, because I don't know that I ever want to go through that again. The black dandruff took a bit of getting used to.
I just got back from the family's mother's day get-together. As it turns out, I'm not the only one in the family who dyed their hair. My aunt Laurie went blonde. It's darkened quite a bit, though. My hair is fading back to brown, but I'm still not showing any roots. My explanation is that I dyed my brain black as well, so that anything that grows out of my head for a couple of whiles will be black as well. But no one believes me. At least my grandparents didn't have heart attacks. But what're the chances Laurie would dye her hair same time as me? I kind of wonder if my mom put her up to it.
I've been going after my hair a bit with a razor to thin it out and expose more roots. I've gotten tired of dark hair and am ready for the old color to return. But it sure is taking its time. When did I dye it? April? Seems like forever. I guess I could look through my old letters. I'm sure it's documented. I think I'm starting to ramble.
Steven Kuo, a co-worker, refused to believe that I had dyed my hair black. When my brown roots finally began to grow out again a few months later, Steven asked me why I was dying my hair brown. When I told him that I'd dyed my hair black, he scoffed. He pointed out that I my eyebrows were darker than the hair growing out of my head.
A few months later, he was finally convinced.
Years Later, I was telling my co-worker Mark Bain about Steven Kuo. I mentioned that I'd been confused by Steven's confusion. How could he have thought I'd dyed my hair brown if my roots were brown, but my tips were black?
Mark told me that his girlfriend bleached the roots of her hair blonde. The idea being that it would look like she was a blonde who occasionally dyed her hair black. So maybe Steven wasn't crazy. Maybe the world's just crazy.
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