Oh The Sad, Pathetic Saga of My Hair
Before I get into this, let me make it abundantly clear I am thankful to have my hair. I used to be jealous of African-American hair (there was a girl I used to work with back in the day that had the most amazing corkscrews. I had dreams of wearing my awesome hair all corkscrewed, or if I wasn’t in the mood for all that, rocking my cool hair all Macy Gray style.) But that dream ended soon after actually expressing this wish out loud to a few friends who let me in on the secrets of “black hair.” Good GAWD, I didn’t know you couldn’t just throw it in a ponytail if you got tired of messing with it. I thought the afro was this amazing free-wheeling no muss, no fuss rebellion – but that took WORK. So, unless I wanted to get my hair cropped (in my fantasies I’d look awesome with a cropped hairdo, in real life, not so much…) I needed to stop with my active fantasy life. Now that you know I’ve been fully educated not to bitch about my straight, white girl hair I hope you can enjoy my story about being stupid with it.
On to our regularly scheduled story.
I used to be blonde. Like shocking, awesome, perfect golden blonde. My college pictures show hair that only came out of fancy salons. It rocked. Of course it was permed, so it looked like crap, but it was the best. color. ever.
The older I got, the more I noticed my hair was starting to gradually get darker. I started to panic, just a little, until my friends found out I was PHOBIC about my hair turning brown. That’s when my friends (the ones with the BEST senses of humor, ever! <—sarcasm) decided to tell me every time they saw me my hair was getting darker and I really couldn’t be called blonde anymore, unless I called it…
…dishwater blonde….
Who the hell thinks that sounds like a compliment? It’s not. Dishwater is dirty and nasty. Yes, it probably comes from some way they used to dye hair back in the day, because I cannot imagine washing dishes and my hair ever being that color. Dishwater blonde sounded, to me, like I just had blonde hair but hadn’t washed it in a month or seventeen. Gross.
So, finally, I decided to grab an ammonia-laden box of something from the grocery store and remedy the problem.
I was blonde again and all was right with the world.
Then I got married, got pregnant a couple times, had a smidge of PPD (Or was it just being half crazy from having a ten-month-old and a newborn? your call.) and forgot to color my hair for about three years. It grew long, and it grew “light brown” or “dark blonde” depending on which box you read at the grocery store.
I hated it. (Have you figured out yet that my hair is the direct line to my self-esteem? It’s like the batphone to my self-perception.)
So I went to this shi-shi salon and told the girl I wanted “1940’s blonde, you know, suicide blonde. Almost white blond but with just a hint of yellow.”
When she was done with me I had this mellow tangerine color that looked like doll hair gone wrong. I couldn’t actually call it a color. Possibly the color of copper (but not that cool redhead shade of copper) or maybe just straight up brass.
I came home and cried, then called the 800 number and COMPLAINED UNTIL I COULDN’T COMPLAIN ANYMORE. I did it in a polite way, but didn’t stop till I was promised the manager herself would fix it.
So I went BACK to this shi-shi salon and paid a total of (I’m not exaggerating) THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS to get my hair done. The second time they only charged me for the extra foils or some crap, most of the bill had been paid the first time. Yes, I paid the bill with tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know what else to do.
But when the second girl was done with it, I looked amazing. It was the most beautiful shade of blonde ever seen in nature. My eyes looked friggin’ TEAL my hair was so awesome-tastic. People asked me if my pictures were retouched to make my eyes brighter, but it was all my hair. My beautiful, amazing, car payment hair.
Time passed, my roots grew in dark (which looked cool for about two weeks. Very punk rock.) and when I went in to get two inches covered it took four hours and another two hundred dollars. That was not an expense I could keep rocking every three months no matter how much I wanted the super-blonde hair.
So I let it grow out. Then I tried to box dye it again. That’s when I ended up looking like a calico cat, with patches of varying shades of blonde, brass, orange, and shades in between. I decided to go get it fixed.
At the local beauty school.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA – GENIUS!
Eight hours and sixty dollars later I still looked like a calico, but a more mellow one. With an awful haircut.
If you look closely you can see the different colors. Oh, and my hair is not flat by nature. Only after it’s been hacked at for a few hours. That’s all the haircut baby. (Also note the orange at the top of my head. That is not from the picture, that’s how it really looked.)
A couple months pass (see, I wait so when I get it done again it doesn’t, you know, all fall out) and genius that I am, decide that the beauty school is not the way to go. I book an appointment at Ulta. A mid-level salon that also sells makeup, shampoo, conditioner, and whatnot. I mean, you can buy Urban Decay cosmetics there, the chicks should know how to rock the blonde, right?
So after bonding with my stylist I told her, “I look like a calico with these different colors. All I want is one shade of blonde.”
More conversation, none of which is about my hair. Then…
She says, “Do you mind if I have a little fun?”
Here’s where I make my fatal mistake…get ready for it…
I say, “Sure!”
Without knowing what’s happening (because I have to take off my glasses to get my hair done and I can’t see but four inches in front of my face) she is turning me into a total bar whore.
No offense to you if you have this hairstyle, I’m sure it doesn’t make YOU look like a bar whore.
The top of my head was blonde, and under that, all around my head, the entire underneath and sticking out about three and a half inches past the blonde is DARK FRIGGIN BROWN. I looked like a reject from the Rock of Love auditions. Seriously, then she flat ironed it.
More crying ensues, and I don’t ask for my money back because how do I explain that my idea of fun and the stylist’s idea of fun were vastly different? I just let it go.
So I wait a month so my hair won’t all fall off, buy a box of brown hair dye, and dye it. My hair is now a light/medium brown. I am in hell.
My hair stayed like that for three or four months. My self esteem dropped into the toilet. I stopped taking care of my hair, wearing makeup, and just wore my hair in a scrunchy-bun. I looked like a dowdy, suburban mom. It blew. There are NO pictures of me as a brunette. I always hoped it was a phase and it would pass and I could block it from my mind.
Tonight, I made a decision. I was back at Ulta and I picked up two boxes of hair dye. The same kind I used before I got married. Before I got pregnant. Before my hair turned into a Frankenstein movie for two years.
It’s still wet now, so I don’t know exactly how it looks. There are still multiple shades in my hair (even wet) but the darkest one is still going to be blonde when it dries (I’ve had blonde hair long enough to know what it looks like wet.) The lightest might be almost white.
The results are in. Don’t judge, my friends, I just woke up and took this picture. You’re REALLY lucky I ran a brush through my h air. Yesterday I was a brunette. Today….I’m not….
I know I look shellshocked. I normally don’t take pictures before ten in the morning so again, don’t hate, this pic is so you can see my haircolor(s) not so you can be all, “Damn, you couldn’t smile or something?” See the bottom where it used to be dark-dark brown, then light brown? It wasn’t able to lift all that out, but it’s okay, because in person it looks like blending and stuff.
I really like it. I’m so much happier now.
I still need a haircut. My last haircut from the beauty school dropout student was a long time ago and has since grown out. Maybe I’ll jump that hurdle next month. It was about all I could do to get the courage together to mess with my hair again last night!
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8 Responses to “Oh The Sad, Pathetic Saga of My Hair”
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omg I knew about the some of your Hair experiences… but Lordy woman!! Can’t wait to see the pictures! : )
and its just in time for the Networking Chats (with webcam feature) on Tuesday!! : )
Tammy Munsons last blog post..Gustav is on his way..
HAHA I still don’t rock the webcam, but just for you I’ll try it on Tuesday. I remember my laptop was wonky last time, and the webcam makes my desktop crash so we’re basically holding everything together with duct tape and plastic wrap over here LMAO
But I’ll be there, webcam or no. http://www.businessandlearning.com - yea for your networking chats - love em!
Girlfriend we need to talk….whenever you go to a salon ask them to write down the product name of the color and color numbers they used on your hair. Then if you switch salons you have “your” custom color numbers. Most stylists have cross reference charts to color match various color brands to duplicate “your” custom color. [If your stylist asked you for your contact info there is a good chance that your styling formula information is still on file; waiting for a return visit. Worth a phone call to see.]
My best friend is a salon owner and taught me this tip which has been a lifesaver! When you call to make an appointment tell them the color brand and your custom color number and ask if they use your brand product.
Hope you get that 1940s look you’re hoping for and at a great price.
~Ruth
I am glad you are back to blonde! I feel the same way about my hair color…I’ve tried others but I need to be BLONDE to feel like me!
Jennis last blog post..Who Rocks? You Rocks!
OMG, I am dying laughing…what a great post…and congrats on your return to blondeness! Color looks great!
one time, I fell asleep while I was getting my hair cut, I told them to take about 3 inches off and pointed to a girl with a cute bob (obviously this was a long time ago) and said, “You know, like that!”. I probably don’t need to tell you how horrified I was when I woke up and they were using CLIPPERS on the back of my neck. When I got home, (again over 20 years ago) my mother took one look at me and said to my dad “Well you always wanted a boy!” Three years later, I was back to normal. I’ve since given up and just live in a ponytail and keep it dark brown bc I am too lazy to keep it up every month and cannot be trusted on my own to select the right color.
Hair is just plain stressful…no doubt about it!
Mary Annes last blog post..An Open Apology To My Neighbors
I am supposed to get my hair highlighted (blonde or red? Hmmm…) next week, but now I’m scared. I need to go rock in the corner and mutter to myself.
Candys last blog post..(Video) Back to school interviews from last week…
Is it wrong that I have always wanted darker hair? Most people think I have black hair already, but it is really just a dark brown. Seriously.
Ok, I admit I have a problem.
Roberts last blog post..Why wait to play a Swordmage?
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