Back to black

There are many ways one can escape reality. Denial has always been my favorite. But last May, when I was passing through one of those “WTF is happening?” moments, I decided to dye my hair. It went from a mild black to an indescribable brown (some call it chocolate, others say it was close to orange, yuck!). I had never experienced something so life-changing that would, literally, transform me into someone else. Don’t believe me? Read for yourselves.

The first night I went out as a single girl with brown hair, my girlfriends took me to Brava Club. Normally, I wouldn’t have been so keen to spending hours drinking, dancing and talking to strangers, but that night, I wasn’t being myself. And it was good. I’m sure it was the alcohol acting out, but the following morning, I woke up ready to explore my new identity.

Needless to say, the rest of summer was no different than that night. I felt happier, spontaneous and daring, instead of my normal control freak nature. The brown tones of my hair received more compliments than I had in years and my bucket list suddenly needed new additions due to my YOLO attitude. I was the female version of Chuck Bass at the beginning of Season 5; I said “yes” to everything (see: Gossip Girl).

In response, one boy managed to make the compliments and risk-taking mantra worth it. I met him while working at a summer camp, and while it took only a first sight to generate my interest, weeks went on before I actually talked to him. At one point, I said “Fu*& it! What do I have to lose?” So, me and my brown hair did something I wouldn’t do in my normal state of being: I walked over to break the ice.

A few weeks later, while on our first date, my now boyfriend complimented my hair, to which I responded: “You know this is not my real hair right?” The fact that he thought it was made me realize that the girl he had met was not the girl I was, but maybe she was the girl I needed to become. That girl was someone I am proud to have been at some point: funny, courageous, confident and not afraid to make a fool of herself.

That’s the thing about personalities: they can evolve. We are the lessons we learn, the music we listen to, the texts we read and, in my case, the colors you dye your hair. I figured it was time to be the girl I needed to become: a mixture of my old self and the brown-haired alter ego. I must say, I’m glad I met her. After all, she got me a wonderful boy. Now, it’s a two for one special. I’m back to black, bit*&%s!


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