Bleach is a four-letter-word. In essence. Not in actuality.
I spent my high school years highlighting my hair, praying to the hair gods and hoping against hope that the blonde streaks looked natural. No such luck. I discovered the hard way that I simply look better with dark hair.
Cut to (several) years later: I have been coloring my hair the same shade of dark brown for forever. All that bleach has made its way out of my mane and I am once again bleach-free. Then, the inevitable happens. Light ends and dark roots have made a name for themselves under the pretentious title of "ombre hair." I want to participate in this trend. H and I have tried (unsuccessfully) to lift my hair without bleach. H had also exhausted all her powers of persuasion to convince me that a little bleach wouldn't hurt me ("just jump off a cliff, everyone else is doing it!") She spend years (okay, months) extolling the wonders that bleach would do for my dreams of ombre hair.
Finally, I caved and decided that the day had finally come to succumb to bleach and its dirty tricks.
I gotta tell you, the result has made me feel like a new woman! Be advised, I realize that the change is so super subtle that me making a big deal out of it is almost comical. But just humor me. Because for me and my anti bleach beliefs, it is practically a new head of hair.