As I sit in the park pretending to stud, I find myself torn over a decision of grave importance:
What am I going to do with the mop of dead skin cells on top of my head? Should I embrace its dishwater-blonde locks, or go bald?
If you know anything about me, the vast difference of these two choices won't surprise you. I am an extremist in all things, diving headfirst into one end of the pool before jumping out and dashing to the other side. My mother called it borderline personality disorder; I like to think of it as an eclectic taste.
It’s been years since my roots showed their true colors. I’ve been black, red, purple, even green, doing all in my power to hide my true origins. One day, however, after applying every color of the spectrum to my scalp, the hippie within urged me to turn natural. (I did mention extremism, right?) Due to the massive amount of chemicals my head absorbed, it’s taken some time for my hair to return to the light, golden-hay color I remember. Now that I’m almost there, another desire has been prickling my cranium...
Bald.
I’ve been drawn to free, naked skinheads for as long as I can recall. The moment has never been right to join their numbers, until now. WISPIRG, a student organization on campus, is raising money for Darfur. If we succeed in earning $1,000 from poor- albeit generous- students, two other girls and myself have agreed to shave our heads at a benefit concert. Come to the show, bring a can of food for the local shelter, and witness three average college kids transforming into Gandhian skinheads for peace.
If you know anything about me, the vast difference of these two choices won't surprise you. I am an extremist in all things, diving headfirst into one end of the pool before jumping out and dashing to the other side. My mother called it borderline personality disorder; I like to think of it as an eclectic taste.
It’s been years since my roots showed their true colors. I’ve been black, red, purple, even green, doing all in my power to hide my true origins. One day, however, after applying every color of the spectrum to my scalp, the hippie within urged me to turn natural. (I did mention extremism, right?) Due to the massive amount of chemicals my head absorbed, it’s taken some time for my hair to return to the light, golden-hay color I remember. Now that I’m almost there, another desire has been prickling my cranium...
Bald.
I’ve been drawn to free, naked skinheads for as long as I can recall. The moment has never been right to join their numbers, until now. WISPIRG, a student organization on campus, is raising money for Darfur. If we succeed in earning $1,000 from poor- albeit generous- students, two other girls and myself have agreed to shave our heads at a benefit concert. Come to the show, bring a can of food for the local shelter, and witness three average college kids transforming into Gandhian skinheads for peace.
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