So, I went to the dark side--so Darth V. of me, I know. Here's the thing: I have a bald patch in the back of my head due to non-stop bleaching and years of Sun-In streaking. (Did you ever use Sun-In? Did you, huh? That's the WORST lightening product on earth, FYI, and 7th grade in the girls locker room was the last time I sprayed that junk in my hair.) Anyhoo, my hair dresser Kim J. told me that the only way I could get my locks looking like Angelina J's is by using a semi-permanent, non-peroxide hair color, hence, the darker shade of hair.
I like my new dark hair, but one of my homies hates it worse than no Sponge Bob on Sundays. He said, "I don't know you anymore; you're not even my mom." To this I replied, "I'm still your mom, even with this hair." Then he began crying, and I scooped him up and gave him a big smooch on his forehead. And then he said, "Now you're my mom again." Kisses solve everything, don't they?
P.S. Of course I can never have Photo Booth all to myself. As soon as I snapped the above picture, my homies crowded into my photo shoot and hogged all my glory. Payback is the worst.