Rosie flipped the light switch and took a seat on the wooden chair that sat in front of the desk in her college accommodation. The mirror in front of her displayed the reflection of a 20 year old girl with long, naturally wavy, light brown hair that reached down to her waist, with blue eyes and petite facial features that gave an expression of sadness and fear. Her figure was supposedly excellent, but she was scared of exposing herself, so dressed conservatively in a cardigan and knee length skirt, and wore little to no make up to enhance her naturally pretty face.
She had just returned from her first freshers party, where she’d had an awful time watching the people she thought she could be friends with getting far too drunk and sneaking upstairs with the boys.
She wasn’t opposed to one night stands or sex at parties, but she hated that she was never the one being led upstairs and into a bedroom by an attractive guy. They always seemed to go for the more fashionable, risqué looking girls rather than her Conservative, perhaps even boring type.
Maybe the problem wasn’t that the boys had bad taste. Maybe the problem was that she wasn’t attractive enough.
Rosie decided that, if she wanted to achieve any sort of social respect at this college she would have to make a change. A change of attitude, a change or personality, a change of looks.
She logged onto her favourite online shops and ordered as much as she could think of that she could use to change herself into the pushing she needed to be. New clothes, new make up, a hair bleaching kit, and an electric razor and pair of hair cutting scissors. ‘If I’m not pulling in every guy at the college after I make my changes tomorrow evening then something will be very wrong”, she thought to herself.
The next day she heard her doorbell ring, and was delivered a cardboard box full of everything she had ordered the night before. She ripped it open and placed her new clothes and make up on her desk, and picked up the hair equipment from the bottom of the box. She caught her reflection in the mirror, and decided now was the time. She would go into the bathroom a girl, and come out a woman. A sexy woman.
She placed her items down on the bathroom shelf and wrapped a towel around her shoulders, preparing herself to finally rid herself of the Conservative, boring look she had worn all of her life. Her parents had always insisted her hair was kept long and neat, and that she was kept looking tidy, but her parents weren’t here.
She tied her hair into two pony tails that lay on either side of her shoulders, an elastic band bunching each one together at around the level of her shoulder blade. She picked up her hair cutting scissors and looked back at her reflection in the mirror.
“Well Rosie. This is it. No going back if you do this.”
She took a deep breath and wrapped the shears around the elastic band of her left ponytail. After a moments hesitation, she cut.
It took three or four attempts to chop through the thick brown ponytail, but finally twelve inches of wavy hair dropped to the floor.
Rosie breath was taken away from her for a second as she realised what she’d just done. The left side of her hair now flopped loosely above her shoulder, and looked fairly uneven. She would have to clean it up later, but for now she moved onto the right ponytail.
As soon as her other ponytail was detached from her hair she was hooked. Her heart pounded and an excited smile grew across her face. This was it.
Next she decided to do the coloring process. She followed the instructions on the home bleach kit and mixed together the peroxide mixture, before separating her new uneven Bob into four quarters. She painted the bleach into each section, leaving an inch or two gap at the roots to avoid burning herself. After a while, she filled in her roots and left the bleach to turn her hair from a natural soft brown to a bleach blonde.
Rosie had never colored her hair before, and the sensation of her scalp burning and feeling her the color in her hair being bleached out was totally alien to her. She was excited to become the new her.
After a while she washed out the bleach and rubbed in an Ash blonde toner, which removed the brassy yellowness of her freshly bleached hair and left her with a clean, white, Platinum blonde.
She dried her new short blonde locks and began the job of evening out her ends. She decided to use her jawline as a guide, and cut a straight line across each one, leaving her with a platinum blonde chin length Bob.
“wow” she said out loud, checking out her new look. “I look so different”.
She decided that, while her new cut and color was truly amazing on her, she wanted something to set her out from the other girls just a little. To make her more interesting.
After looking through pinterest for a few minutes, tucking her platinum ends behind her ears to stop them from blocking her vision, she decided on getting an undercut.
She pinned up as much hair as she could at the top, and left the three inches of hair that covered her nape hanging loose.
“this should be fun” she said, picking up the clippers she’d ordered yesterday. They applied the number 2 guard, and flicked then into life. They roared a metallic buzz as the threw her head down and lined them up to her nape.
She found the the separation line where she would know to stop, and plunged them into her nape. 6 inches of white blonde hair fell to the floor, and a wave of pleasure rippled through Rosie’s body. It felt so good.
She finished off buzzing each strand of loose hair, and stood back up straight. No difference could be seen from the front, but as she turned around and lifted up the back of her Bob a shaven undercut was exposed. Perfect.
It felt almost as good to touch as it did to cut. Soft white bristles tickling her fingertips as she traced her hands over her nape. She had to remind herself to stop, because she needed to get ready to go out soon.
Now the cut and color was complete she moved into completing the whole look. She straightened her short, white hair into a perfect chin length bob. A tanned foundation, smokey eye look with a prominent cat eye, and a cherry red liptisck were all applied to her pretty face which she had kept so bare for all of her 20 years up to this point.
She removed her towel, cardigan and knee length skirt and donned a tight white tank top that showed a good amount of cleveage and a small amount of belly, some tight blue jeans, a pair of black stilettos and a big black leather jacket.
Rosie assessed herself in the bathroom mirror. She LOVED how she looked but couldn’t help think her name didn’t fit it.
“Rose” she said out loud. “Rose Beech.”
The change was complete. Rosie was dead, Rose was Born. A tear ran down her cheek.
End of pt 1