Day Three: Vanity

Day three of the blogging challenge leads me into contemplating self love and semi permanent rinses…

Nearly Orthodox1


I began coloring my hair when I was 14. The house we lived in had belonged to my grandparents and my grandmother left a bottle of her “Fanci-full” temporary hair color under the sink. My pre-teen hair color stared me in the face every morning before school. My grandmother called it “dishwater blonde” and that term came first to mind as I stared into the mirror to begin another day in middle school. It came to mind as I brushed and curled my hair and as I dreaded another day of  teasing from classmates because I was the quiet, weird kid, because I was too often caught day dreaming, because I was an easy target with dishwater blonde hair.

So I took the bottle of hair rinse and tried to weave Bashful Blonde into that dishwater and perhaps it did nothing for the color but it felt like a step…

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