Natural Hair Color and Green Day

Thank you to my dear opinion givers on the subject of hair changing. I went back to my roots (pun INtended) and dyed it my natural color.
Dark brown. It feels good in a silly way to be back.

It reminds me of the first day of 7th grade when in 1st period we had to go around and say our favorite music group. A bonding experience to kick off the 2 most painful, puberty-stricken years of life.

As we went around the circle 'twas heard:

Hot Jock Future Pot Smoker: "Green Day."
Princess Popular Cheerleader Future Pot Smoker: "Green Day."
Nerdy Dragon Ball Z Future Pot Smoker: "Green Day."
Crater Face Coburn Future Pot Smoker: "Green Day."

You get the idea.

Then it came 'round to me and I said, "The Beatles."

And then commenced the school year when my 100% naivety was chipped and ripped at until a measely 54% remained. As I saw my pals begin to smoke (and offer me) ciggies and mary jane, snog (etc.) the boys, wear spaghetti strap tank tops, use 4-letter words, listen to CDs with "Parental Guidance" warnings slapped on the covers, get "a coffee" from Starbucks, etc. I clung to my lack of ultra-trendiness tooth and nail without becoming a nun. It was fun and easy because at the end of the day I had Annie and Elizabeth to leach on to, and a few classically solid g-pals to tootle around with. But even as I was desperately intrigued by and covetous of a few styles sold at Wet Seal and Contempo Casuals, although I flailed limbs to the down beat of rap songs booming at school dances and sleep overs by the likes of Criss Cross, Coolio, etc., they ultimately made me want to run for the hills for fear that liking them would change EVERYTHING about me. And so I continued to accrue wardrobe items from The Gap, The Gap, and The Gap. My Mom stood alone with a license to take scissors to my hair for a blunt cut, as LAYERS would surely be the gateway drug to teenage pregnancy. And LSD (I knew what that was because, remember, I listened to The Beatles).

Then I think Sarah and Elizabeth and I made up some inside jokes that comprised us being g-funks so the once-shunned rap became (gasp) comical. And I thawed out. I think I'd been doing an OK job of being "IN the world but not OF the world" but due to some good old sibling goofiness I learned how to laugh at the world too instead of being cripplingly stressed out by it. Whew.

And then I even highlighted my hair at the age of 25. In a professional salon, no less! I bought Kanye West's latest album and Homecoming would have to be one of my most beloved songs of all time. And you know what? I haven't even been excommunicated!

But I do find some degree of warmth and comfort in seeing a natural head of br-izz-own hair in the morning before I jot off to work with diet coke in hand.