Why I Regret Dying My Dark Hair Blonde

Contrary to popular belief, (bottled) blondes do *not* have more fun.

By: Samantha Sutton

It seems strange now, but growing up, I was pretty angry about having dark hair. I didn’t really feel like a brunette: I wanted to be blonde—a fun, bubbly, Marilyn Monroe-type blonde. My parents refused to allow me to dye my hair (“You’ll regret it,” they told me), but I did secretly experiment, spraying my hair with lemon juice before I went to the beach and also trying out—gah!—that aughts favorite, Sun-In.

When I hit my college years, I tested out a “red velvet” hue, and a few years after that (after I was back to brown), I added some *subtle* highlights. But it wasn’t until I was working in the beauty and fashion world that I really decided to get drastic: dying my hair rose gold for a story. I figured that once I was done with that quirky color, I’d slowly start transitioning into blonde. It was finally going to happening—I was going to get my wish.

Little did I know that things wouldn’t go as planned. They say blondes have more fun, but personally, I did not. Read on to find out why before you, too, hit the salon and hate it (and PS, sorry for these selfie poses), then check out this post on how to bleach your hair the *right* way. 

Before my whole hair journey began, my locks were basically untouched. The highlights had grown out and I was getting a bit bored—hence the reason I volunteered to go rose gold.

Luckily, for this kooky color, I had access to a really talented colorist who specialized in rainbow hair. But during a consultation, she told me she didn’t want to dye my roots: apparently, the bleach would make my hair weak, which might cause it to fall out. So I stayed dark on top, which felt slightly edgy and a little too “grunge” for me.

Rose gold? It did not last long. I couldn’t go more than a few days without some shampoo (my scalp gets pretty greasy), and soon, I was rocking a weird copper color. Every one told me didn’t look *that* bad—but it did. It 100 percent did.

When I finally took a trip to my local salon, I decided I was ready for my Marilyn moment—but again was told the whole thing about my roots. With the help of even more bleach, I was left with something I wasn’t exactly crazy about (I’m just a classic kinda gal), but I accepted it because I WAS BLONDE. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along?

The texture of my hair was definitely...off. It wasn’t soft like it had been when I was brunette; it was hard, and crunchy, and damaged from all those rounds of bleach. I used a ton of conditioner along with my purple shampoo, but when that didn’t work, I curled it frequently so I’d look somewhat presentable. The only good news was that during my next trip to the salon a month later, I actually got to go a bit lighter at the roots.

It turns out there was a solution to that crunchy problem: Olaplex, a treatment that repairs and rebuilds the bonds in your hair. I had it done by a professional at a salon, and was given a leave-in conditioner to use at home. I also had some really light highlights added around my face, and, for the first time, loved the way I looked as a blonde.

My love didn’t last that long, however. If you’re low maintenance (and perpetually late) like I am, it’s hard to remember to wash your hair, put Olaplex in, wait a bit, and rise it out. My hair began looking less and less vibrant and even more damaged, so I cut it—which, surprisingly, ended up giving the color a boost.

I realized I felt the opposite of confident as a blonde: I barely recognized myself, and felt the need to explain my hair issues to everyone who commented on it. The upkeep was such a hassle and I was concerned my hair was turning orange, that I decided to go a bit darker. And then, when I still wasn’t happy (and the blonde began poking through because, ugh)? I went *really* dark—even darker than my natural color.

That color faded quickly too, but it was all good: my hair turned the dark brown color I was born with, and I vowed to cut back from trips to the salon (aside from the occasional trim). Nearly two years later, I’m rocking that color I began with—and surprisingly, I couldn’t be happier!

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