The acrid odor of toner singed my nostrils while I leaned over the bottle, having taken a deep breath in before I realized my mistake. Coughing, I held the bottle out to my friends, urging them to share in my suffering; when their noses scrunched in disgust, eyes watering from the stench, we all collapsed into giggles and rushed to mix it with the bleach nearby. Past the fumes, after an hour of mixing and painting and drying and rinsing, a masterpiece emerged: pale pink flowers of all shapes and sizes dotted the canvas of my head. 

Going into the hair-dyeing process last November, I was reasonably nervous; aside from a brief foray into temporary color during quarantine, I had never dyed my hair before. I gave my friends paintbrushes, bleach, and pink dye, trusted them to create something pretty on my head and not permanently fry my scalp, all with no way to see the progress. There was also the chance I could hate the way it looked and would either have to shave my head bald or come to school with a splotchy, bright pink hairstyle. Of course, I was a bit worried. But I decided to take a leap of faith and try something new.

This leap was a part of a journey I’ve been on throughout the past year. I’ve always struggled with self–expression and finding ways to let my personality shine through a unique style. I used to hate my clothes, my accessories, and the way I did my hair before I cut it. But in the past couple of years, I’ve been inspired to pursue ways to express myself that make me comfortable. I’ve upgraded my wardrobe, gotten more piercings, and carried myself with more confidence, but still, I felt something was missing. 

After dyeing my hair, though, it was like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Though my clothes and earrings change every day, dyeing my hair represents something more substantial to me. With bright, vibrant designs across my head, I can add that much more color into my style. What’s more, I literally have my friends’ art spanning my head. Every time I get a compliment or catch my reflection, I remember them and the hours we spent together with paintbrushes, bleach and creativity.

I thought our first project would also be our last, and by January I would go back to my regular brown. Except, that didn’t happen. At the end of the month, my friends and I decided to do it again, this time with snowflakes for the winter season. Then, when that grew out, hearts for February. Now, it’s a tradition for us: at the end of the month, I cut my hair and then they dye a new pattern into the shaved sides of my head for me to proudly wear. We have so many ideas — clovers for March, fruit for April, more flowers for May, rainbows for June, and more.

Obviously, I love my new hair. I can’t stop turning my head in the mirror, catching glimpses of the pink in this month’s heart pattern. My friends are happy, I’m happy, and I’m always excited to show off the new look when I go to new places. 

It’s an amazing feeling to be able to walk around with confidence, knowing that I’m expressing my personality even through something as silly as hearts in my hair. While this is only my third time, I’m learning more about the joy of self-expression and the freedom of creating something unique. It has helped make my senior year the best out of high school. For anyone who’s uncertain about their style, try taking that leap of faith. It just might add the splash of color you want.