I have come up with a, if I say so myself, genius yet simple plan to dye my hair. First, is the cash issue. I have to get enough cash first, but I am still thinking if I should dye it myself or dye it at the salon. Secondly, I need to get my millennium-old parents to let me dye my hair. But thing is, I don't really give a shit about what their old brains think. They decided to stereotype hair dying as a mafia rite of passage, but that ain't my problem. I wanna look like a star, not a gangster, stupid. Okay, so my plan is to dye my hair on a particular outing, return home with my new hair, and let her rant on and on. Don't really give a shit, and never will. Parents are supposed to guide their children into the right path, and fashion criticism and hair colour judgement ain't 'guiding'.
Call me mean, but please do go check who started it first. They wanted to do it the hard way, not my fault. My new hair colour ain't gonna make them lose their lottery, it ain't gonna cause the world to explode, and it sure doesn't make them look like they have a gangster for a son, sheesh. Whatever. Parents = Ancient = Black Hair. Me + Black Hair = Stupid + Boring + Agitated.
