hurz.

a weed. my hair grows like one.

so you can imagine how great I feel after getting it done 

for the first time in FIVE months. 

yep. I'm that lazy. I've done my hair every two months since eighth grade,

but going off to college I decided I wanted a change.

I was sick of being blonde.

So I let my roots grow in. Dark blonde.

I'm a risk-taker, I know it. 

Heaven knows it needed to be done.

Here's a timeline, for the creepily curious:

Last summer. This is the color I've been since...forever.

And so it grew. and grew and grew. 

even when I lit these candles in December

and they in turn lit my head on fire,

did I cut my burnt ends? no. I just snapped the black ones off. 

what's my problem? does it have a medical term?

My breaking point came when I saw this picture.

(My deepest apologies to everyone involved, mostly myself. 

A no-makeup late-night ice cream run should not turn into a photo shoot.) 

My hair was two different colors in a very non-chic melt sort of way. as emphasized by the 80s side pony.

And so, friends,

the blonde is finally back.

and she feels ready to take on the world.