Except I kind of do, only when I see a blonde with awesome hair.
I’ve been a brunette (my natural color) almost a year now, and I have been loving it. Mostly. I like that it’s me, a feature that I’ve had since practically birth (okay, I was blond when I was born, so since I was two or so). I do like that I can go to the salon once every three or four months as opposed to every 6-8 weeks for highlights. I like that my hair no longer has the consistency of straw and is longer than it has been in years.
People still ask me about my hair color. A coworker came up to my cube last week and said, “Wait, you’re not a natural blond, are you?” I put on my Patient Jenny Face. I’ve had to answer this question many times, and when I’ve had the same color for nearly a year, understandably I get a little tired of answering it. “No,” I replied, “brunette is my real hair color.” Then he made some comment about how he thought so, since he’s been seeing me with the same color for so long!
I nodded politely.
So yes, I normally don’t miss being blond, except when I see something like this:
It’s so fresh and pretty! If I haven’t been trying to grow my hair out for the past year and a half/trying to save money/attempting to be a responsible human being and save instead of blowing my disposable income on my hair, MY HAIR WOULD TOTALLY BE THIS COLOR.