Sunday, October 7, 2012


I was a super late bloomer when it came to many things:
1. Eyebrow tweezing.
2. Leg shaving.
3. Make-up application.
4. Dying of my hair.

Mom was... a total weirdo about it all. Guess that's what happens when a tomboy gives birth to girls.
Mom would tell me shit like "Oh, don't worry about the fuzz on your legs-- your pants will make them fall off on their own with all that friction. It did with me!"
Yeah, Mom, YOU... you're like... hardcore native american. You're pretty damn hairless.
HOWEVER, YOU married a hairy motherfucking Spaniard... The man turns pink in the sun, his hair is black as night... and it's ALL over the place! Get out of here!
I waited patiently all through middle school. I felt like such a boy, watching as my friends began transforming into pretty girls with their eyeshadow, lipstick, shaped eyebrows... HAIRLESS legs.

I BEGGED for a bit of normalcy... and it was slowly given to me. First the eyebrow tweezing at the start of 8th grade, followed by eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara permission, and FINALLY, HALF-WAY through 8th grade, I convinced Mom my goddamn hairy, stupid-Iberian legs were not going to "lose the hair on their own."

Mom was loosening her tomboy grip on me... and after hustling her for the majority of my life, at the end of 8th grade, the woman FINALLY let me dye my hair.

Considering how badly I wanted to change my hair color, I was drunk with power, and went crazy-- I got blond highlights.

Christ... I have photos of this horrible phase, but I WILL NOT share them. I am absolutely mortified each time I catch a glimpse of this embarrassing period in my life.
I was a brown girl... with HUGE, chunky, orange-hued highlights. I looked ridiculous.

I haven't gone blonde since then... it was a fucking bitch to remove the poorly bleached strands from my hair-- it was everywhere! It didn't help that my lame hair does this thing, where it lightens to a fucking EXTREME in the summer-- that wonky, idiotic-Iberian trait that rears its stupid head at the most inopportune times.

I also learned that I'm allergic to ammonia. It makes my nose bleed for HOURS. I'm not exaggerating-- I get lightheaded after a while of the bleeding. I turn into a fucking hemophiliac.
This sucks, but it did help get me out of a few chem labs that involved that atrocious chemical.

I hadn't played with ammonia in years, but today, my lovely aunt strong-armed me into dying her hair.
She came to my house and told me I was going to retouch her extravagant hair style...
By "extravagant," I mean "Did Dennis Rodman inspire you?" extravagant.

I tried letting her down gently... I brought up my ammonia allergy... I even told her I was tired... but she wouldn't budge. She even gave me a fucking face mask! The woman was ready.

I was lucky that I managed to convince Mom to help me. She took the color, I took the bleach.
We slaved away for half an hour... and the end result?
Holy shit... don't laugh!
Jesus... I feel terrible.
I swear that is exactly the way she wanted it.

Safe to say "Hair Stylist" is nowhere in my resume... nor will it EVER.
May God have mercy on us all...

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