Off to dye.
The red-head is baaaaaack.
Yup, after a 3-year hiatus to foray into the land of muted auburn-chestnutty browns…apparently, a girl can’t escape from her inner fire. Like a moth to a flame.
To be honest, I think I subconsciously made the decision to stay away from red dyes. Before I wasn’t quite sure if it was because I was transforming into a new stage of my life or slowly healing from heartbreak…both acts of breaking away, so to speak.
But now that I’ve successfully crossed back over to the Red Side (hah), I know I was simply waiting for the right time.
The me in previous red-headed times was lost and chugging full-speed in all directions at 120 km per hour (yes, since I’m in Canada now, I figure I ought to make a good faith effort—just ignore the fact that the weather on my iGoogle page is still in degrees Fahrenheit). Back then, I didn’t care whether or where I crashed. It was all about pushing my limits to find freedom and not really understanding that instead I was digging a fancy free-falling hole.
Now, I’m no longer chasing shapes to fill voids of insecurities, fears, and excuses. Which is not to say I don’t battle inner demons, old and new…all the more, in fact, as time passes. It’s just that I’m no longer trying a prove something to nobody. From here on out, I want every action of mine to be a real reflection of who I am and my personal potential. Sounds corny, even to me. BUT, as Madonna once said…“I don’t know what I was thinking before I was thinking.” Except for me, it’s more like: I don’t know what I was thinking before I was feeling.
Basically, I’ve just u-turned my way back into not giving a damn again. And this time, for the right reasons.
So…let’s burn, baby, buuurn.
