And in my latest theatrics to properly justify my title as the enfant terrible, I have waged a one sided war on my follicles in an effort to live up to another nickname- this one bestowed on me by a boss friend of mine- Katy Perry.

That’s right bitches- I want my hair to match soul, or you know, at least my shoes.

Said plan is currently only in the contemplative stages- as truthfully, it has been for months- a fact that causes me pause.

I am the she-devil-horse-of-a-different-color, no?

No. Apparently not.

Because while my boyfriend wants blue, my brain wants black, and my over processed hair wants blonde, I find myself stagnant. Granted, said stagnation is currently ruminating on an awesome shade of ruby, but my reticence to say fuck all is out of character and more than a bit worrying about what the future holds in terms of brash and ball busting bitchiness.

One hair color? What’s next? Housewifery?

I shudder.

And am calling the goddess of all things hair.

It’s time for change.

It’s always time for change.


~ by rubylocks on October 6, 2010.

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