The Difference a Little Colour Makes

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I bought a hair dryer the other day, after not having one for years. I’ve typically hated them because my hair always comes out terribly, but I admit that the one time I’ve used it so far has worked to my advantage (although not creating an acceptable hair style by itself). If I use it with enough success on weekends I might even attempt to dry and style my hair in morning routines before work, sacrificing the going-back-to-bed I do for fifteen minutes after my shower as my hair dries slightly from wrapped in a towel.

I noticed as well the other day that people who hadn’t seen me much, if at all, since I went blonde were more directly sociable to me than usual. It was the first sign I took in that maybe blondes do have more fun – people who have known me as a brunette or with my hair dyed black acted slightly different around me with blonde hair, in a socially positive manner. It’s a mild difference, and this may all be spurious or just my imagination, but perhaps this is a reason I need to maintain my hair colour, continuing to bleach my roots.

Maybe I’m changing as a person. Maybe a parasite has colonized my scalp follicles and makes me think differently about my hair. Maybe I’m stuck in a coma and I’m experiencing this alternate world. Whatever the reason…I’m changing the way I perceive my own hair. We used to be enemies…but I still wouldn’t call it my friend.

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