To dye, or not to dye. That is the question.
Whether ‘tis nobler in my age to suffer
The slings and arrows of OUTRAGEOUS gray hair,
Or to take pigments against a sea of silvering,
And by painting cover them? To dye, to shade;
No more; and by a shade to say we end
The heart-ache of the thousand natural colors
That hair is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d.
Don’t mind me. I’m just contemplating coloring my hairs again.
This is the color it turns when I dye it black. Because my hair is freaking AWESOME, that’s why.
I spent most of yesterday on a giant, yellow, inflatable tire floating down a section of a nearby river. There were friends, and margaritas, and splishy-splashy, talking and giggles, and and and…