Or so I thought.
Turns out red is a petty little bitch who had a stubborn grip on my follicles and refused to let go.
Some dreams are easier to kill than others it turns out.
But my momma didn't raise no quitter.
I gave it a valiant effort. I paid a lot of money to have the red stripped out of my hair. And in the process I turned it into mud coloured straw.
I've never felt dead sexier than I have these past few months. If one considers dead sexy as feeling mousy and blue.
So I made an executive decision. One I hadn't made in EIGHT YEARS.
It was time for a hair cut. Not a trim. Not an inch. Not even two.
All of it.
The hair had to go.
Momma say wha? Also, BEST PICTURE OF ME EVER.
It wasn't that hard of a decision. After all, I've had short hair many times in my life. Just not since Shale was alive.
It's been a while.
And so, I marched into the hair salon and said, "Off with my head." Only I meant my hair.
It almost looks like I finally shaved my legs.
And so it came off.
And still, there was RED. I was actually eyeing the clippers, thinking the only way to kill the red was to Britney it off.
Luckily my hairdresser is smarter than I am.
Holy crows feet woman.
It took a few hours and a couple of toners, but suddenly, when I put my glasses on, I saw her.
A me I recognized. A reflection of a person I used to know. It's a Tanis the Internet has never known. And I'm sure not everyone on the Internets will like.
I went public with it yesterday, in my offline life. The verdict? Some hated it, some loved it, one dude called me an ugly 12 year old.
If only they had seen what I looked like as a 12 year old. Even my mom laughs when she recalls how homely I was back then.
(My finger is covering my best friend Jojo. No need to bring her past into this pain.)
I had completely forgotten how strong people's reactions to short hair on a girl would be. Especially if they went from long hair to boy short in one quick cut.
People can be real arseholes with their opinions.
So I'm back to blonde. I don't know how long I'll keep it short, or when I'll grow it out again. I'm in no rush. Right now I'm just enjoying recognizing the face that looks back at me in the mirror.
The red is officially dead.
The hair is short.
Be gentle dear internets.
And if you don't like it, I expect you to do better than calling me an ugly 12 year old boy. Because that line is already old. Boris.