I started coloring my hair during my first (and only) semester at Florida State. My hair color was fine, so I don't know why really, other than all my friends were doing it. Whaaaat?! Don't act like you’ve never used that excuse before!
Anyway, I usually will color all of my hair in the fall and then have highlights done at a salon in the spring/summer. I just do the highlights once because they aren't far off from my natural color and they don’t look horrible when they grow out. Also, I'm lazy and cheap. Then, in the fall I like to change it up and go auburn. For a while now my mom has been dying it for me because it was long and I needed two boxes. Plus, we both knew that I didn’t have the patience do that all on my own. She always does a great job, too.
Recently, I cut my hair back to shoulder length and decided that I wanted to color it before the Thanksgiving holiday. Specifically, three days before Thanksgiving, and only one day before the Hubby's family arrived in town from Buffalo. You know I had to look good for the family. Also, my SIL is a hottie and I gotsta try and keep up!
I picked up a box of dye at the local Walgreens. I came to a bit of a fork in the road as I wavered between the “new and improved” 10-minute version (same brand, same color, only faster!!) and the regular old standby. The first was cheaper and faster. Looking back that should have probably been a red flag, but in the moment, I was sold.
Everything started out fine. The color looked a little dark, but not alarmingly so. It seemed to cover easily and I was feeling good about it… until I rinsed and stepped out of the shower. I saw my wet hair in the mirror and my stomach dropped. It was DARK. I told myself not to panic. It would be better dry. Of course, it wasn’t. I was trying so hard not to freak out, but there was no avoiding it. My hair was, like, purple. It was super-saturated on top and in front and then in the back it was streaked. It looked like I had swept my fingertips across the back, removing dye. I know you’re laughing right now. I know you want a picture. But, there are no pictures. There was no way I was documenting that moment. I’ll give you a hint as to what I looked like though:
Okay, not really. It was more like this:
Except, I don’t look like that and therefore I was not pulling it off in the least. Plus, don’t forget the streaks! It was a nightmare. I went into the living room to show Hubby and he does the typical man thing, “It’s not that bad!” I responded with, “I am NOT going to work like this tomorrow!” And I didn’t. I called my supervisor, unsure of whether or not I should tell her the truth. I figured though, that honesty was the best policy in this case. Thankfully, she understood. Been there, done that conversation ensued and she told me it was pretty much a womanly rite of passage. Ha!
The next day I spent three and a half hours getting it fixed at the salon. It felt like an eternity, waiting to see the fate of my preeeecious hair. Would I ever be able to leave the house again? The answer was yes. My stylist was an angel. She fixed me up real nice and I promised her (and Hubby) that I would never take the DIY hair approach again!
