identity crisis

As most of you know...I'm a little obsessed with my hair. Ok, not even a little. I'm a lot obsessed with my hair. I probably get it done, oh, like every three weeks. Which isn't helping my current situation. Let me explain:

I started highlighting my hair at the age of 11. It gradually became a habit, to the point where it was almost white. So I lived most my life as a blondie until I was about 19. Then it started falling out, breaking off, and burning up. This called for drastic measures...aka I made myself a brunette. Don't get me wrong. Brown is a great color. It's just not me.

So I have brown hair. VERY thin, brown hair. No worries, this can be fixed. The answer to my problems was hair extensions. I originally planned to get a whole head of them to make my hair like a foot longer. Well, that was going to cost like 700 dollars, and suddenly marriage was thrown into the equation. Hair extensions + marriage = poverty. So that didn't happen. Instead, I got my thin hair filled in in the front with just 7 small, innocent hair extensions clamped onto my own hair with a metal bead. Everything was fine and dandy until one day I ripped one out of my head. That hurt. A lot. Then a few days later, I noticed some red little bumps on my scalp where the hair extensions were attatched. I think my scalp was rejecting them. So my good father went to work with some pliers and a thumb tack and saved me the money of having them removed. I thought my hair was thin before...let's talk about all the hair that came out along with those extensions.

So why do I put myself through such ridiculous things? Who even knows? I think it's just because I was not blessed with long, flowing, thick hair. Let's be honest. I was bald until I was three. My mom had to get my ears pierced so people would know I was a GIRL. But it's just hair right? Too bad every time I look at myself in a picture, I don't see me. I want it blonde again...

I just don't want to be a bald woman at my wedding.