Hi. My name is Amanda, and I'm a coloring addict

I can't remember why I started dyeing my hair, except for that little adage about blondes living more exciting lives. I remember my hairdresser casually tossing the word "highlights" into the air as she gave me a trim. I think she said she could make my eyes bluer.

Why are warning labels issued everywhere from cigarette packs to restaurant menus, but not at the salon? If there were such a label, it should be etched onto the glass of every colorist's mirror: "Warning: Artificially coloring your hair is expensive and highly addictive. Side effects may include feelings of humiliation at the first sign of your natural roots, a fearful reverence for your hairdresser and a complete disconnection from reality when it comes to what hair color truly looks best on you. Once you begin coloring your hair, it is nearly impossible to stop."

Any woman caught in the dye cycle knows kicking the color habit is worthy of a 12-step program. I spent an entire year merely thinking about possibly returning my hair to its natural state. I scrutinized the hair of women everywhere I went. I examined my roots the instant they became visible to see what my natural color actually looked like. I tried on dark wigs. I consulted anyone who would listen, and I was met with fierce opposition.

I asked my hairdresser what she thought about me giving up bleach, and she replied, "Your hair will have no body. It'll be impossible to style."

My best friend was skeptical, too. "I wouldn't do it if I were you," she said. Even my own mother frowned and cautioned, "I think you look better as a blonde."

I knew these people — despite my love for them, despite our long, complicated bonds — were enablers.

My hair was fried beyond repair. No amount of shine serums or expensive deep conditioners could revitalize it. After 12 months of deliberation, I finally became certain: It was time to kick the color habit.

But I needed a little help from a hairdresser, and since my own was unenthusiastic, I decided to go straight to the top. I consulted the owner of a renowned local salon. He was appalled by my desire to go au naturel. He told me natural hair is dull and lifeless, and so he would not — he absolutely could not — help me go natural. He could, however, for several hundred dollars, dye my hair to a shade very close to my natural one. It would look exactly like natural, "only better," he said. For this I would have to return every two months for the rest of my life, or until I came to my senses and decided to go blond again.

The problem with his plan was that it just replaced bleach with a darker dye. I wanted to stop dyeing. I wanted to quit the cycle. I wanted to save money. I wanted to know how it felt to live with hair that was completely and totally naturally me.

I told him I'd think about it and asked for a simple trim instead. I left his salon with my hair a half-inch shorter and my checking account $180 poorer. Lesson: The best colorist in town isn't necessarily the best person to help you go natural.

As I thought about it more, I got angry. Why did everybody insist I remain a blonde? And why did I keep following their senseless directions? I thought about it so much and got myself so fired up that I decided to go cold turkey. I stopped seeking approval from hairdressers. I ignored my mother's scowl. I felt like a rebel, like a trailblazer shunning the beauty establishment.

After four months, my roots had grown 2 inches, leaving me with an obvious line. That's when vanity took over my free-spirited resolve. I needed to blend the grow out, and I wanted it done quickly. Since the best hairdressers around had not helped the process, I did what many hair-conscious women would consider unthinkable: I walked into HairMasters and told the receptionist I wanted the next available color appointment. Ten minutes later, I sat in the chair of an unfamiliar stylist and asked her to get rid of my line. She agreed without debate and gave me a partial foil of lowlights that matched my roots. It cost $50.

It has been almost a year since that final color, and the compliments keep coming. My hair is shiny and full of body. Even my mother says, "Your hair looks so nice."

So to all the women exhausted by the upkeep; bored with arbitrary, one-size-fits-all beauty standards; eager to save money; longing to live more authentically, I say, "Fear not."

Amanda Ford is the author of "Retail Therapy: Life Lessons Learned While Shopping." You can reach her through her Web site, www.oholive.com.