I’m a little peeved with my newly dyed hair. I washed it this morning – an act that is surely accepted practice in hot sticky summer weather – and it promptly faded from black to brown. Dark brown, yes, but so much for the Goth Lite thing. Also, did I tell you that, because I was using henna and indigo so as to keep nasty chemical dyes of Capitalist Badness off my skin and out of the water table, I spent a total of eight hours with compost ground into my head over the weekend? Unable to rest my sticky, staining, reeking head on anything at all? With neck ache? And H refusing to come near me? And then I had to scrub the bath, which looked like a pond? All this for browner hair?
Anyway, ask and ye shall receive. Here, for your viewing pleasure, we have May’s hair. On the left, we have the standard colour she was born with – well, not actually born with, in that she was born bald and then spent the first three years of her life as blonde as Shirley Temple, but, shall we say, the unadulterated colour she puts up with. On the right, we have the dark brown hair May is currently putting up with, and she strongly assures you that yesterday it was rather inkier.
Sometimes being an eco-freak hippy is just not worth the bloody effort.