I’m so obsessed with Kesha, I dyed my hair bright pink and blue

It cost $250 and five hours of my life to fix it

Kesha. The most talked about subject in the world, the hottest celeb in America and the “it girl.” OK, so maybe not, but you do know who she is, right? (Please, if you don’t know her, don’t tell anyone. Immediately go immerse yourself in articles about her, like, now.)

The poor girl is going through so much crap right now and it breaks my heart. Bae is the strongest girl I know and she will win this fight. So, let me tell you why I am so completely infatuated with her, even though she unfortunately refuses to acknowledge it.

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Homegirl applies glitter to her body with beer. She recognizes glitter as a staple in her life, so I do too. Her lyrics speak to college-aged girls like me and she absolutely gives no shits.

She is crazy enough to be considered as a contestant on The Bachelor. Her shows are like huge frat parties – I’ve been to enough of them to know. And to top it all off, she probably hates Taylor Swift as much as I do.

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Kesha is my spirit animal. So that’s why one year, when Halloween rolled around, I chose to dress up as my idol. I attempted to dye my hair half light blue and half light pink – picture cotton candy – much like she did. And boy, was it an experience.

First, my friend bleached my blonde hair. It was honestly more painful than a hangover from hell. I still have scabs on my scalp from where the bleach burned me. Once the bleaching process was finished, I looked like Draco Malfoy from Harry Potter. From that point on, I vowed I wouldn’t look in the mirror again until my hair was completely finished.

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The whole process took a grueling seven hours, but (shockingly) only cost $30. I guess that should have been my signal to stop. I cried a lot – when I saw myself in the mirror after the bleaching, during the bleaching, anytime my friend brushed my hair and anytime a chemical touched my head. Everything hurt. But I probably cried the hardest when I saw the finished product.

My locks were lovely shades of electric blue and electric pink. I looked like Trix yogurt, a troll doll or best of all, Sharkboy and Lavagirl. It was far from what I was shooting for. Perhaps the best part was when I read the word “permanent” on the box.

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Pro of this mistake? I became Kesha. The cons? A $250 painful bleaching fix that lasted five hours. And the pink is still there. We had a bonfire to burn all of the dye boxes because I do not need a reminder of that day.

But I did this because I love Kesha. Before every party I go to, I dump glitter on my floor and roll around in it like a wild animal. Glitter is permanently in my life now. Of course, others have chosen to leave my life until I lose the glitter, but whatever.

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Kesha inspires me to channel my inner tigress and be a little crazy. Sometimes I’ll put on my shiny leotards from Goodwill that have never been washed just so I can feel like her.

Bottom line, Kesha is amazeballs, deserves freedom and needs to come out with a new album before I drive myself into a dark hole. I need her back in my life.

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