The Hair Saga Friends from home joke with me - 'what color is your hair going to be this time?'. I guess they're more or less justified: my hair is quite possibly the most dynamic part of me. Can I tell a story with my hair? I can try... This is my natural colour. I was one year old. This is my natural colour in high school. I think I was a sophomore in this picture. I was always have people cut my hair instead of going to a salon or something smart like that. This is Gennie cutting my hair while we were in Mexico. It was very hot so I wanted my hair short enough so that my neck could breathe. It was a ... minor... change. Oh, yeah. I was sixteen at the time. Or seventeen. I can't remember. But it was around there somewhere. (And no, I don't need to be reminded that I only look around eleven or twelve. I know this). This is my first experiementation with color. I was a senior in high school. It doesn't show well in this picture, but there is a blue streak on the right side. This is the closest picture I can find to 'normal' in the thousands of pictures I have from my freshman and sophomore years at Olivet. It isn't even completely natural - the fading blue streak is still somewhat visible if you know where to look (the right side). BTW - the above pic was taken in May of 98 and this one was taken in December of 98 - looks like a lot more time has passed, doesn't it? My first color experimention in college: I was broke so I used the blue dye I had from high school. I must have gotten some money somewhere, because I re-brightened the blue and had fun with vampyre red (or some similarly named goop). I have this thing for 'before' and 'after' pictures. This is a 'before' picture in Waukegan, Ill-annoyed on our girl road trip in 98. 'After' picture, Waukegan. And again, no, I'm not stoned. The next picture displays what my hair looked like underneath - and it had been done professionally! The Saga of Barb's Hair Angie (the blue-sweatered arm) always cut my hair. She's awesome. Now that the hard part's done, it's time for a clipping. See? -> This is all the creative I got with my hair my entire sophomore year. I did try to dye all of it blue with black streaks but it kinda looked like swimmers hair on crack so I spazzed until my roommate dyed it all black with the rest of the black dye. This is my picture for the library staff conglomeration-thing. People's reactions were of shock and my complements were words like 'interesting' and 'different' (which is prep-ese for 'ugly' and 'distasteful'). Over the summer I tried to rid my hair of its inky blackness. I went to JCPenney's where I spent 80 bucks to spend five hours getting my hair bleached five or six times, and this is the colour that happened. The 'colour specialist' there made me promise that I would never dye my hair black again. At the time, I thought I never would. Junior year at Olivet. My hair is fried beyond belief so what do I do? Dye it burgundy, of course! Of course, I got sick of this but my hair has been dyed, fried, bleached and stretched beyond hair capability. I hated it, so I asked Wes to cut it off for me. And yes, he used a Swiss Army Knife. No, it did not hurt. Yes, I do brag about that when the occasion presents itself. And yes, cutting it was not enough. After he finished using my head as a weed-wacker I went upstairs and bleached it to a nice golden-orangey shade that my first grade practicum children called 'cheese'. I only have one picture of this fun event. It took a couple of months but eventually it started to look like I actually had a real hairstyle. I didn't realize it at the time but I liked this hairstyle a lot. Of course, I can only do 'normal' for so long before I have to pretend to be different. Here's my freshly black hair. I liked this era. The more observant of you are wondering what I did to change my hair, since I inferred this era was over... Remember how I mentioned I would have to shave it all off to start over with a different color.... Dun Dun DUN!!!!!! I look weird, don't I? Most of my friends had a sinking feeling I'd do it eventually. For a while it felt like a dry cat's tongue. Then it felt like starched velvet, and that was only three days since my initial insanity. Do I regret it? No. Will I do it again? Probably not. But it was an experience and now I can say that I've done it. Barb has shaved her head. I have hair again, as you can see. The only downfall is that I really had to spike it, in fact I didn't have to do it since it dried that way. And I looked like a cat caught in the rain if I tried anything else. This picture was actually meant to 'casually' display my new tattoo (come on, as if there's any way to casually say 'hey I have a tattoo aren't I cool?'..) but it ends up being a great before picture for my hair. Yes, you heard me correctly. I found something more to do with my hair, as if it weren't fried enough already. Are you ready? This one might shock you... Actually, I thought about it and this won't shock you. When it was time to redye my hair I dyed it burgundy for a sortof blackish-plum look. My favourite comment in that regard was "Miss Ruu your head is pink!!". (I love children. They get to say everything we adults wish we could say). Remember when I was talking about shocking you? I think this is what I meant. And yes, it took quite a bit to go from black to blonde overnight. I don't recommend trying it unless you actually like the feeling of straw on your head and going through four boxes of dye. (Which was six sessions of hair dye. My hair is short enough to divide the juices in half to save for later). Since my new camera I've been able to take quite a few pictures, including the before/middle/after pictures of every dying attempt. Wanna see? More proof this story will never end... I got sick of people telling me my hair was yellow so I dyed it a darker blonde. It worked great except for the fact that it was green. So less than a week later I dyed it more goldeney and this is what happened. This is actually a lot more orange and a lot darker than what it really is, though. I can honestly say that the next batch of dye wasn't exactly my fault... I mean, yes, I was the one who bought the dye, and I was the one who put it on my head, and I was the one who posed for the after picture, but it wasn't really my doing. Er, what I mean was that some of the ladies at my church got into a discussion as to what shade my hair was- and the word 'green' came into it. Whoa! It's starting to look how I actually wanted it! ohmigosh! It gets better... No, I really mean that. While I was at camp my friend (who's also a beautician- my first 'real' haircut in years) asked if she could play with my hair. And Mary did an awesome job. If you're wondering about the pale purple streaks in the front- don't worry. Those aren't permanent or anything. But these are perma... well, as permanent as things get with me. Note that the lighting is bad in this picture. I didn't dye all of my hair, just the streaks. The story isn't over quite yet... as long as hair grows I'll be finding new and creative things to do with it (after all, it's just hair...). To Be Continued...