Posts Tagged ‘highlights’

Bronde Ambition

March 27, 2016

I went and got the roots touched up today.

Despite three people looking at me like, crazy lady, you’re hair is on point.

And.

Yes.

Especially with the trend for a big root shadow.

I had me some roots.

I got the dark hair.

However.

I am planning ahead.

Oh yes I am.

Each time the hair gets a little lighter, the current blonde, or bronde if you will, gets a little bit softer and lighter and blonde gold and caramel and it’s super pretty and it will all go towards finally getting the perfect dusty rose pink shade I have wanted to do for ever.

I’ll lighten it one more time, we’re being pretty cautious, my hair can only handle so much before it will just break off, but one more time after this and then a soft dusty washed out pastel pink for the Burning Man.

Yeah.

I know.

It’s March.

But.

I’m making my plans.

I ordered a new shoulder holster recently as well for the event.

I have one from last year, but I decided to upgrade a little bit, get something sturdier, I’ll be wearing a baby a lot of the time, one of my little charges will be 3 1/2 years old and the other will be about 9 months–which means having a baby carrier on.

Which means a holster for my essentials instead of my utility belt.

Which I will also have.

Oh all the things.

I guess it’s because it’s a special anniversary for me.

My 10th burn.

I am really lucky that I get to do this, it still astounds me that I have gone so many times and that I get to go again this year.

I was talking to a friend who made it a part of his contract with his new job that he gets two weeks off in August to do the event.

I have another friend in LA who does the same thing.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more than a few of us out there with that requirement.

I was trying to explain it a little to my colorist.

For me so much of it is about the art and the amazing heart and total commitment that the artists and their crews put into the work.

It is astounding to me how much work goes into making some of the pieces, into building the city, just the effort of preparing myself for the playa is a job, then I think about the creative process and the amount of effort expended and it blows my mind.

It is an extraordinary thing to get to be a part of.

So yeah.

I’m planning my hair for it already.

Because that’s how I roll and because I love to have fun and it’s a part of me having fun.

I have some work to do, of course, before the main event.

I need to get through the rest of the school semester.

Two more weekends of classes.

I was working with my person today and Tart to Tart, kicking out the last of the inventory and so glad to be done with that bad boy.

The only thing left is my sexual ideal.

Oh wouldn’t you like to know.

Heh.

But I got the rest of it out and one of the things that was listed under my fears list was the fear of not making it through my first year of graduate school.

I actually laughed.

I couldn’t believe that I had written that.

I am not afraid of that any longer.

In fact, a lot of the stuff that I am normally freaked out about just seem to fade out.

I didn’t feel a huge shift in my perspective, but I just felt grateful to be doing the work and I know often times that the effort put into doing this kind of writing and inventory is later revealed to me.

Just to be free of those things that impede me and my growth.

Freedom.

Free to be who I am, free to be light and flexible and open to new experiences.

Or hair colors.

Ha.

Free to love.

I was awed by my person’s perspective on my grief bubble bursting in yoga.

I told her what had happened, while I was in the heart opening pose and how I just wanted to send this man I had all these feelings about a bubble of light and love and how it burst open on me and I was flooded and the grief and sorrow melted away.

The catharsis that happened.

She smiled.

Then she said, “that is love, that is true love, you sent him love without expecting anything in return.”

Oh.

My heart.

That’s the thing.

So often I have love for someone and I want something in return.

Not realizing that there is nothing to be gotten from loving, but the act, the simple act of purely giving love and not expecting anything, finally, allowed me to move through it all and come out the other side.

I don’t know this foreign country.

It is wobbly and not steady in my eye sight.

Something akin to wearing the new glasses I have had for the last three days.

“Progressives.”

The nice way of saying “bi-focals.”

They have take me a bit to get used to and I am finding my perspective constantly being altered, sometimes it makes me feel like I am falling or dizzy or just a little bit off kilter.

I have found myself slowing down.

Looking at things differently.

This love.

Freely given, the amazing grace of it.

The things that I gain when I am not looking for some sort of pay off.

Extraordinary.

The life I get to live even more full of juicy goodness.

And tomorrow.

I sleep in.

No commitments.

Nothing.

No plans.

I am being completely flexible and not going to be planning a thing.

However it plays out.

I am available for it.

Complete and present.

And just a tiny bit.

Blonder.

Bronde is the new black.

At least for today.

Heh.

Pampered

May 19, 2014

Spoiled.

Taken care of.

Two cappuccino’s later.

New highlights.

New color.

Love.

Not going to show the world yet though, there are still two more sessions of hair goodness coming down the pike from Solid Gold Salon.

Today, subtle and not so subtle.

The subtle?

The lowlights in my roots that completely masked the few grey hairs I have.  Blessed with some awesome genetic markers on my genome, at the age of 41 years, I have perhaps five grey hairs on my head.  But, I don’t need to see them and they got covered up today.

The not so subtle?

More blonde.

Lots of blonde.

In fact, the colorist and I discussed pulling it up even further the next time we meet.  It’s not a traditional ombre, it’s what is called a bilayage, which is a much more subtle, “natural” if you will, way to color the hair so that I won’t have weirdo roots when it grows out.

That’s the thing for me.

I love going to the salon, but I don’t care to spend a lot of time on my own hair in the mornings.

I have more important things to do, eat, pray, make bed, write.

Then muss about with my hair, aside from throwing a flower dipped in glitter into it, I have no desire to spend time styling it.

So, going into the salon is a super huge treat and I have not had this much goodness in my hair in a long time.

It’s not a splurge per se, as the new colorist is getting her chops on my head, but I happily accept.

I know my friend is not hiring hacks at his business, I am grateful to allow them practice on my hair, and if it doesn’t turn out, they will fix it.

But man, it turned out.

No photos yet though.

We have decided to wait to do the big reveal.

I still have two more services to go.

Another round of color–pink and violet in a pastel tones–and more blonde.

Then the Brazilian Blow out.

After that photos.

I was relaxing this afternoon in the back yard with a book after having made up my food for the week–homemade pinto beans with olive oil and diced carrots, onions, garlic, sea salt, black pepper, brown rice, chicken with roasted white corn and garlic sautéed kale–just relaxing in the sun, reading my library book, drinking some tea, listening to the smash of the waves on the shore and realizing, for the umpteenth time, how lucky I am.

I was also grateful to not be in the wild crush of Bay to Breakers, which I had a small taste of taking the N-Judah down town at 2:30p.m. this afternoon.

I had thought that it would be done and over, but even heading back this evening at 7:45p.m. I see a gaggle of girls crossing the street, tipsy, in knee-high red athletic socks and red panties.

It’s like Burning Man.

Except obnoxious.

And with no art.

And running shoes.

Girls, please, put some pants on, the event is long done.

Go home.

Tomorrow, it’s Monday, that hang over’s gonna suck a bag bad.

Oh well.

I stayed out of the fray.

I heard a lot of it, garbled shouts and noise and ruckus, but didn’t see much of it, I stayed at home, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, then reading in the back.

Perfect Sunday for me.

Add to that going to the hair salon and I feel like a god damn princess.

I forget that I am allowed to do things like this.

There is still a large part of me that thinks I need to suffer to get ahead or I won’t get ahead.

Note to self.

There is nowhere to go.

Here is just fine.

In fact, it’s pretty god damn sweet.

Why wait until I am retired to sit in the sun and read a book?

Why not let myself get pampered and have my hair done and revel in a scalp massage.

Note to any future boyfriend out there, want my number, give me a cranial massage.

I swear, it’s the best, a washing of the hair and a face and scalp massage.

Sigh.

It’s near sexual.

It’s over the top sensual.

One of the loveliest things.

I need to allow myself lovely things.

I saw a pretty dress in a shop today and I thought, I should go back and get that.

And I actually believe I will.

Not this month though.

My spending plan allotment for clothes got eaten up by my hair.

I hadn’t even thought about doing all this stuff with my hair, but then when it all happened the way it did, I was all in and booked the time.

Plus, well, you know, Burning Man is like in less than 100 days and I, uh, like to have some fun hair for the event.

Shit.

I like fun hair any old-time.

My friend who owns the salon was telling one of his clients about a hair style he had done for me, hot pink, faux hawk, shaved up the back, like shaved to the skin, and the client could not picture it.

Sometimes I can’t either.

But I remember well sitting in the kitchen of his place while he mixed his dyes and compared notes and directions.

He’s come a damn long way and it’s been really fun to see that too.

From sitting in his kitchen to sitting in his salon.

Grateful for that perspective too.

He’s seen me through some rough transitions.

From taking me out to a steak dinner the night I said good-bye to Shadrach at the hospital and then driving me over the bridge to Treasure Island to see the city sparkle and shine in the black water of the bar and letting me cry on his shoulder with the loss.

To letting me crash on his couch for two months when I lost my place in Nob Hill and transitioned to working at the bike shop.

To now, 9 years later, still close friends, giving each other shit, talking smack, coloring my hair, teaching me how to ride a vintage Vespa scooter, and being my friend, through it all.

Pink hair to purple to magenta to blue and back again.

I have amazing friends.

You.

My friends.

Are AMAZING.

Just know that.

I love you.

I do.


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