On red hair...

I cracked today.

After enjoying my first ever pedicure (gratis -- product promotion), I decided I couldn't take it any more. I went and had my hair done.

Over a year ago, I decided that I would stop dying my hair -- a guilty indulgence I've enjoyed for the last oh, 15-odd years. Plenty of lovely colours and bizarre styles. As part of a new year's resolution (and as part of my penance for living a vain and shallow life for several years), I decided that not only would I grow my hair, but that I would grow it out. I would enjoy my natural hair colour before it became littered with silver.

This was last January. My last hair dye was December 30, 2004.

Until today.

I realized that while being yourself is a noble, wonderful thing, genetics do not always provide one with optimum parts. Some you can't fix. Some you can. I've decided that some malicious god in charge of my genes decided to bless me with all the characteristics of a redhead -- greeny (lakewater) eyes, whitey-pink skin... and the dullest of mouse brown hair.

Today, I re-embraced my life as a redhead. I look a fuck of a lot better.

And I feel less like I look 40. Which is nice, because I'm only 31.

Of course, I had it done a slightly cheaper place, which means the hair is not quite as I envisioned, but is a damn sight better than it was this morning.

Vanity be damned.