“I’m going to do two blondes. One the same shade as last time. One a bit lighter,” she said.

And it’s how I do everything – in small, minute increments. Barely noticeable. Barely moving.

“I’ve secretly always wanted red hair,” I blurted.

She studied me a moment. “You know, I think you could pull that off. You’ve got the right skin tone. And your hair’s a 7/8 so it would do well with red.”

My head was too full of possibility to inquire what 7/8 hair meant. Whatever it was (tone, hue, texture, length?) I had it and was a candidate for a pipe dream I’ve never voiced out loud before. I like the haircut I’ve got which leaves the color as the only thing available to change.

Friends left and right are leaving to live abroad, and life here sometimes feels stagnant.

Red. Could I really do it?

“We could do a temporary one that would rinse out in a few washes,” she said.

Pretty soon I’m going to start dreaming in red.

[Edited to add: NO. I didn’t go through with it. The blondes were already applied to my head and were steeping, plus, hello?!? I move slowly. I need time to come to terms with this massive change. I only dyed my hair for the first time ever in January 2014. Today was the second time.]

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