I Am Done Coloring My Grey Hair

Leaving the toxic entertainment industry has been amazing for me. I have been cleansing myself of all the bullshit from that former life.  In just 2 weeks, I schedule my explant of my stupid fake boobs for the beginning of 2020. Now, living in the rural mountains of Northwest Montana, I have begun to question why I keep coloring my hair. The answer? I am afraid of what OTHER people will say. I already get told what a has been, washed up nobody loser Avon Lady I am now. I wont lie, when I first gave up Hollywood, it was VERY hard to handle the criticism. My worth was measured ONLY by my level of fame. My husband supported me through it. He told me that he could never have handled what I was going through with the strength and grace that I had. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. If he hadn’t told me how much he admired and valued me, I don’t know where I would be right now. He gave me the strength to flip that middle finger again.

He also asks me why I dye my hair I get it.. It never turns out right. The grey hair turns a brassy orange and is a bitch to cover. I LOVE my natural color and have HATED dying it. I ONLY dye the rogue streak and the salt and pepper I have at my temples, nothing else. I HATE doing it. I hate the smell. I hate it bleeding on my towels. In fact, my husband thought I was dirty and nasty when he first came to my apartment and saw a fresh dye towel…all brown…lol.  Here I am, someone who fancies myself a hardcore bitch with a “fuck em” mentality…and I am AFRAID of what THEY will say. Who are THEY? A bunch of fuck sticks that never accomplished a goddamn thing in their life so they trash me to feel better about themselves? SO what if I LOOK OLD. I have been battling silver hair since I was 2@! I was on MAXIMS HOT 100 AND Playboys 25 sexiest celebrities in the world WHEN I HAD SILVER HAIR! No one thought I was a Golden Girl then. I simply had some fake ass dye on it.


So, I bought a total of 25 bandannas/head scarves. I am reverting back to my days before top model, when my head was always wrapped. It will take a while to grow this out. At first, I was afraid I would be too shocked from too much change. My upcoming surgery will be molding my body back to what it is SUPPOSED to be. I thought a change with my hair might send me into a depression. FUCK THAT. I am tired of conforming to what people THINK I should be or look like.  I am tired of worrying about what YOU will think of me. FUCK YOU. I am tired of women being the number one people to tell other women they look old, fat, etc if they don’t sit there and primp themselves into someone they are not. I am tired of telling myself that the REAL ME isn’t good enough. that the REAL ME will LOOK OLD and HAGGARD.

I am getting older. I am proud and happy to be me. I love living in the mountains, I LOVE selling Avon instead of chasing the Dragon in Hollywood…and If you don’t like it, you can kiss my ass.


October 2019 official start. Here I am without makeup and glasses nose grooves…and freshly washed hair.


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