Though my mother allowed me to dye my hair reddish purple colors in high school, she stopped at black. That was forbidden. I'm not sure why, but she said "you'll just have to wait until you get to college."
There is a picture of me sitting in some girl's dorm room (oh yes, she kind of "saved" me during a particularly neurotic and terrifying acid trip by feeding me venison jerky and assuring me that I actually HAD slept eventually)..anyways, I have HUGE glasses of course (it's 1987, come on!), weigh about 100 pounds, and am sporting short red hair (that hangs in my face) and I distinctly remember that I am wearing a Christian Death t-shirt. Ha ha. With the exception of "Romeo's Distress" and "Spiritual Cramp" for nostalgia sake, Christian Death is one of those bands that I used to love that I can't stand now!
I bought a box of blue-black hair dye a few weeks after settling into college and couldn't wait to see the results! I remember that the bathroom on our dorm floor was DARK as hell, and grey and, well, very morgue like, so it was only appropriate that I looked entirely DEAD when I looked in the mirror for the first time with my new black hair. Of course I thought I looked exceptionally cool. I looked awful with black hair, though. I don't have the coloring for it.
I was very interested in all things witchy and Wicca but wasn't about to practice anything in a fucking dormitory. So, I pranced around with my black hair, and made friends with other girls with black hair (or platinum) and waited for them each day after classes. Their house was scary. It was Amityville Horror house scary (and looked like that house)...I would stop by Dairy queen on my way to their house, and then sit on their porch (while eating a Peanut Buster Parfait) waiting for one to get home from high school and her sister to get home from working at a restaurant. I would never go inside, because the one afternoon that I did (they never locked their door) I was so creeped out by sitting alone in their apartment. It didn't help that someone had stolen some poor soul's grave stone and had given it to them, where it sat collecting dust in the hallway. This is the same house where I saw my first ghost, actually. Yikes.
All the cute little gothy gay boys would hang out with us. I guess we were fag hags for sure.
I remember wearing TINY black rayon dresses from the 1950s or 1960s that would always make my underarms sweat. I also wore footless black tights paired with rolled down black socks, so that just a tiny stripe of my bare skin showed. We all thought it was extra special if we happened to get holes or runs in our tights..huge gaping holes were no problem. Short little skirts. Damn, I could pull it off back then.
When I would walk back to the dorms people would yell "Olive OYL" out of the windows at me. I was pissed off about this but I guess I did sort of look like her with black hair and some of the outfits I wore.
God, that was all 20 years ago or more!
I haven't colored my hair since finding out I'm pregnant, and my roots are amazing. Larry stood behind me the other day and said "Damn..you have more grey than I do!" (Which cannot possibly be true!) I don't want my hair to look this shitty for our wedding shindig thing (Aug. 30) so I will either use henna or a vegetable dye. Hopefully I won't end up having green hair of anything!
