I started dying my hair when I was 16. I'd gone to this summer program at a college, basically for intelligent geeks who wanted something that looked good on their transcripts. It was an odd experience, a bunch of geeks who found themselves amongst other geeks, only to discover when geekiness is the norm, you suddenly fit in. I cried when I had to leave. When I got home, I dyed my hair red.

I said I was 16--I didn't say it made any sense.

Anyway, since then I've been dying my hair, with henna mostly. It's a natural hair dye that smells like grass. It's messy and clogs your drains. I used it for 14 years.

Then suddenly about a year ago I stopped dying my hair. It wasn't really intentional; I just didn't feel like doing it any more. Maybe it was something to do with changing everything else about my life. I figured I'd let my hair be a color it hadn't been in a long time.

Then I was about to turn 31. 31 was a bigger deal to me than 30. 30 had been liberating, my life in upheaval but with me coming through with flying colors. 31 was re-evaluating everything in my life. 31 was suddenly being "in my 30's". 31 was a little scary. The day before my birthday, I dyed my hair red again.

I used a regular dye, but one that claimed to be herbal, that had no ammonia. It didn't stink like I remember my sister's blond hair dye stinking back when we lived together 10 years ago. My hair was gleaming red. It was brassy but flashy and I liked it. I got compliments from strangers on the street.

I've been dying my hair again ever since. I've experimented with different shades, all red, but some darker some brashier. I really liked the one I used last time so I used it again last night. I like being red. I feel a little bolder, a little more interesting, a little sexier, and a little more hot-tempered. I suppose it's a cliché, but clichés are there for a reason. Why be brown when you can be bold? Besides, it brings out the green in my eyes.