Which shouldn't, of course, be confused with the Great Hair Dye Atrocity of 2004, or the Mystery Hair Color of 2001. And we won't even mention the 2002 "I said Winona Rider, not Billy Ray Cyrus!" mullet haircut, which practically ended my social life as we know it.
Yes, sadly, I am one of those women who is constantly changing her hair, particularly the color. It started innocently enough my freshmen year in college when my roommate suggested I throw in a few blonde highlights "just for fun."
Almost eight years later, I still hate her guts.
That innocent act has resulted in soon to be a decade of reckless regard for my own follicles, of hours spent in the bathroom painstakingly pulling hair through a cap, of even more hours waiting at the hair salon for them to magically turn my pink and orange hair back to a respectable color.
Oh the folly of youth!
See, being a reporter (re: poor), I can't afford this schizophrenic hair routine I am now used to and so I generally dye my hair myself. And while I like to think I've become quite good at it, even I still make mistakes...horrible, horrible, zebra-striped, blotchy, colors-not-found-in-nature mistakes.
But before I get to that, let me take you through a brief journey of my hair coloring adventures.
Exhibit A: This is probably the closest shade to my natural hair color (although being that I haven't seen my natural hair color since 1999, this is pretty much a crap shoot):
And here is my various shades of blonde phase:
The oh-so-sexy overzealous highlighting phase:
The not-too-long-ago dark red phase:
Which was quickly followed by the horrific, faded out, I-look-like-Bozo-the-Clown red phase:
(In which, no pictures were to be taken of me upon pain of death).
And of course, no one can forget what I like to call "The Elvira Phase":
(Gee, who would have thought pasty white skin plus black hair equals living dead?)
Well, you'd think after all that I would learn but no. Last night I got that old hankering again for the smell of hair-killing chemicals and I bought me a highlighting kit. On the box, a beautiful young woman with dark, brown hair (similar to the shade I currently have...well, had...(sniffle) was smiling on the box, surrounded by beautiful caramel colored highlights.
So I bought it and Ta-Da! Only a few hours later I had a shade of hair that can only be described as (insert sound of someone upchucking here).
Even though I followed the directions to a T, I ended up with highlights that vary as much in color as they do in consistency. I believe it's what the professionals call "zebra-head." Which is why I am wearing a hat today at work. And why I fully intend to head to the store as soon as I can sneak away to buy some sort of dark shade to cover this atrocity.
And so, the moral of this story? If you have follicle ADD like I do, please seek help. Tell your parents, a friend, a teacher. There is a cure to this disease and it's called a hair stylist, who will tell you in no uncertain terms that you can't go from Amy Winehouse to Marilyn Monroe in one day.
Make your appointment today. And remember, you are not alone.
- 7 unverified comments
Thank you for your contribution.Flag this as inappropriate
- Follow AprillBrandon