My name is Bella, and I want to be a platinum blonde.
I was platinum before. This time last year, I had chest-length, white-blonde locks. I looked and felt pretty fab. Well, I did, but my hair certainly did not. That's the thing with going platinum. You forget how much bleach fucks with your hair until your mane is so coarse you can't even run a brush through it.
Despite that first-hand knowledge, I want to be platinum again. Maybe I'm just a blonde at heart. Or maybe I just want guys to call me “blondie” again. Is it wrong to kind of miss being referred to by my hair color? I don't know. But I do know that “blondie” is better than “mouse brown” or whatever I have going on with my head right now.
The first rule of platinum hair is the most important: You can't wash it regularly. I could only wash my hair once a week (twice if it was really dirty) and had to keep it clean the rest of the time. Basically, I was always on the hunt for ways to keep my damn hair out of my damn face just so it wouldn't get dirty as quickly.
While I no longer have to worry about brushing my hair back (short hair for the win), I'm still all about cool summery 'dos for keeping your hair from getting entrenched in your own sweat.
