I’ve been going through a lot of the old files on my laptop trying to get all organized, and I ran across this … uhh … thing.
I was 20 years old, working on Capitol Hill, and in thrall of Britney Spears’ locks (oh, the irony).
“It didn’t really work out,” doesn’t even begin to descirbe it. I spent the rest of the year sitting in salons crying as they tried to salvage what was left of my hair. Conclusion? I wasn’t meant to be a blonde: then, now, or ever.
Oh, memories.
