From dumb blonde to carrot top

Last week I dyed my ash blonde hair copper-red. I always got told how nice I looked with blonde hair but who the hell wants to look ‘nice’?

People keep telling me I’m brave. I’m not. In no conceivable way does paying someone £70 to add pigment to your hair constitute bravery. DbyDC assumes you don’t need to examples of what actual bravery looks like?

Good. So we’ve established that dying your hair is not on a par with IED disposal. Here’s what it is like…

Bye bye blonde…

(Bravery accusers: note the safe environment. I have a gown on. I’m smiling. The hairdryer has been stowed safely. The woman in the background even has a cup of tea.)

 

And we’re off. No turning back now. Fine. That’s absolutely fine (shiiiiiititsreallydark).

 

Not at all sure about these bunches. On the plus side, this neck collar makes me look kinda sci-fi. That’s why I’m giving you the death stare – for the otherworldly effect. Not because I’m scared or anything.

 

Woohoo, fiery redheadedness here I come. Expect impulsive decisions, hot tempers, and general smouldering.

(Also, a steadfast conviction that there is a scientific explanation for everything, even when it’s a super paranormal and there’s, like, cryptoplasmic slime coming out of it and shit…)

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