Ever since the day I dyed my hair "redder than the devil's d--k," as Andrew likes to refer to it, I've refused to go back to anything else. My hair has been blonde, brunette, purple... but I always go back to red.
Part of me thinks that my refusal to change it up is due in part to the attention I receive for my hair. When people look at me, the first thing they notice is the giant pile of flames on top of my head.
Random people on the street compliment me, and I seem to get a reaction out of everyone.
I can't spend my entire life with hair like this. I don't need to be the lady in the nursing home that everyone feels sorry for because she won't "let go" of her youth. But I'm honestly not sure what to do.
Do I just continue on down my path and see where it takes me, or do I bite the bullet and go for something entirely different?
Aw... it's a picture of me right this very minute. I feel nostalgic.