So, today I walked into my history class, of course everyone was looking at me but I’m not sure if it was because of the gold shades I was wearing, the fingerless gloves I had on, the chain I was wearing around my neck . . . or my pink hair. It was my pink hair since my teacher immediately told me to go to the principles office. Apparently pink hair isn’t allowed. IT WAS JUST A COUPLE OF STREAKS! “You’re going to have to get rid of that pink in your hair” the son of a bitch principle said. “Why?” I asked him angrily, “I can’t just get RID of it. MY HAIR DEFINES WHO I AM” god I was getting angry, I did not spend 2 hours at home working on my hair for nothing. “Natural hair is only allowed” what a bastard. I’m not even allowed to be an individual. So I got the hell out of his smug office. But when I was making my way back to class I ran right into the dreamiest boy in school. I was certain he was the same one I embarrassed myself in front of in the dude’s bathroom. “Ooops” was all that came out of my mouth. “Nice hair” he said, omg, he complemented me. “I’m Tim” omg, he introduced himself. Then he held out his hand, omg, he wants to touch me. So I shook his hand. I said thanks for the complement holy shit this boy was so OUT OF SIGHT! “I’m guessing you got in trouble for your hair?” yep. Luckily he warned me that plenty of girls had gotten in trouble for dyeing there hair black from blonde or blonde from black and the principle never ends up doing anything about. Phew I was safe. Score! I get to keep my pink hair!
Go Annie Lucy, it’s your birthday!
Now since you’ve probably already guess what a psychopathic human (I think) being, you’re probably thinking that she hates my hair. You’re right. My natural hair colour is brown. And used to be kept at shoulder length. Simple layers, no fringe, and no highlights. When I turned 16 I just thought fuck this and I went to the supermarket and bought black hair dye, scissors and stopped using my hair brush. I locked myself in my room for about an hour, walked to and from the bathroom for another two hours and FINALLY finished my new hair style. I walked downstairs and I think my mum almost fainted hahahah oh it was good. I took a pic of myself and stuck it on my wall – god Annie Lucy Weatherfoot, you are just too fucking cool.
CHECK ME OWT BITCHEZZZZ
NB: the diary of Annie Lucy Weatherfoot is fiction but is VERY loosely based on my life/I do not own images or videos/Dani Gore