This past week has been stressful in terms of what's been happening with my hair color. I got the black stripped out, and whenever you do that, your hair turns orange. This time, the final product still had a shit-ton of orange in it. And I wasn't havin' it. So I went back the next day and got it "re-toned" and now it looks something like this:
Please ignore my paleness/makeup under the eyes/overall disgusting that is my face.
I'm happy with the color (for now hehe) but I am even happier about the fact that I have half the money for my weave saved. :D Oh long, illustrious hair that I dream of, you will soon be mine.
You know how there's always that one person that "got away"? The one person you never had? You almost did, but they somehow slipped through your fingers (if you want to interpret that as dirty, by all means do so) and you can't forget it? Well I've got one of those. Let's call him "Fred". I see Fred on a regular basis, and he's almost like a brother to me now, and actually IS a brother to one of my readers (but I'm pretty sure she knew exactly who I was talking about kinda instantly). The problem with people who play this role in your life is that you are constantly wishing you hadn't have let them get away in the first place. But how do you get over it? You have 2 options; forget this person and replace the thought that you should've had them way back when with the idea that it wasn't ever supposed to be. OR you can try to get back to where you were in the first place, but this time choose NOT to let that opportunity go. The problem is...which option do I go with? And I don't want you to think that I'm imagining this and that it's just false hope that's all in my head, even though I have no idea where Fred and I stand today. I just know that it should've been. But never was.
This is my final day of "childhood". I'm not sure how I feel about being an adult just yet, but I know that it comes with a lot of responsibilities and freedoms. I'm excited to get my tattoo on Sunday, but I'm not really excited to do anything else that being 18 will permit me to do. I almost don't want to be 18...there's something I certainly treasure about being a "kid". Even though I hated being 17...and 16...probably 15, and we won't even talk about 14, I like the glimmer of impressiveness that being under 18 brings with anything you achieve. 18 is still young, but it's not AS young. I'm sure I'll get over it real quick, but for now, I'm a little disappointed it's coming to an end. I guess I'll just have to be impressive in other ways. :P
HOT- boys wearing glasses.
NOT- the fact that I can't say "boys" wearing glasses is hot once I'm 18. Pedophile doesn't look good on me.
-Shelby <3
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