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Hey, J. Love, (Are we still doing that? No?)

I came across the segment of you on Ellen yesterday. I noticed something from jump street that made me feel a little uneasy, but I ignored it. I tried, instead, to focus on how much you’ve calmed your (literal) tits and how at-ease you now seem in comparison to your former, way over-sharing ways.

I like this new you. You seem quite genuine and lovely, so I pushed my bitchy ass thoughts aside.

Then my friend (Hey, V) tagged me in a post about you, with a picture similar to the one above, on Facebook, and I voiced my displeasure about your current hair color haps.

Then I tried to move on with my life. I really did. I went to get a coffee. I gave my dog her dog pills. I tried to think of other things to ponder, like how many times we will get to see Eric Northman’s ass on this season of True Blood. Or why I can’t stop watching Silence of the Lambs, like, nonstop.

I blocked my friend’s face so he won’t have to be embarrassed by my hair choices.

BUT I COULDN’T GET THIS SHIT OUT OF MY MF-ING HEAD. Listen, I’m the last person that should judge a person’s hair decisions. I make terrible life decisions, especially when it comes to my hair color.

I’m that person that dyes their hair with blue-black boxed dye for several years, decides they want to be blonde, gets their hair done every two weeks until it’s platinum blonde, then promptly dyes over it with black boxed dye again. I’m the actual worst hair-related-decision-making human.

That’s why I feel like I can tell you this. I’m right here with you, sister. We can’t be blonde. At least not this blonde. And, unlike you, I was born a blonde. (I watched every damn episode of Kids Incorporated, honey.

From Fergie to you. Don’t try me.) So it really hurts my nearly-unfeeling heart.

LOOK AT US, JLH. WE LOOK LIKE A GD MATCHING SET OF MANILLA ENVELOPES, MAN. I’m not saying this to be a huge c-face (this time). I just wish someone had told me sooner.

I just got my hair done the other day, and when I told my stylist that I wanted to add a little more blonde, he said, “Okay, but you can’t have too much near your face. Your skin tone has yellow undertones and your eyes are dark.

It won’t look right.” That’s the first time that a professional has told me that. Ever. In all of my precarious hair coloring history. Which is nearing 20 years. And he was right as a mofo.

I’m so sorry that I have to be the one to tell you. I know that it’s shitty, but we can’t all be blonde. It’s like me, you and Jodi Arias. Them’s the breaks, kid. Someone had to tell you.

At least you have a great rack, seem extremely sweet, and look absolutely beautiful with your various other hair colors. It gets better.

You have my deepest regrets,

Shan

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