1. I’ve debated sharing this. It’s personal and slightly horrifying and one more way my life spins violently out of control like that damn teacup ride at Disney World. Which of course means it’s perfect fodder for the blog. Onward.
2. I had a hair appointment the day before Thanksgiving. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Wipe out those pesky grays before my whole (minus three, plus two) family came over Thursday and then we saw BrightSide’s peeps on Saturday. I mean, we all know the passage of time is marching right across my head but a girl can pretend. I figured I’d drop in, get de-grayed, and roll on.
3. It’s worth noting I had some highlights that had gone (ahem) awry. In concept I’d envisioned tiny pieces of lightness scattered through my hair; in reality it was more like somewhat startling chunks of awfully-blond for this brunette. But being a conflict averse sort of girl – stop snorting – I just kind of rolled with it figuring eventually it would all work itself out. And most of the time I didn’t even think about it. Unless I was standing in a public bathroom under fluorescent lighting wondering what the hell had happened to my hair…
4. So pre-Thanksgiving Day rolls around and I decide it’s time to cut my losses. Let’s just make it a chocolatey brown, I said. Kill the highlights, I said. And for good measure I scrolled through four pics of the hue I was picturing ‘cuz communication is key, am I right? Check, we’re set, she puts the new color on and I marinate.
5. The first hint of whoops came during the blow-dry when she asked if I needed to be anywhere. Like, existentially? They say I’m right where I’m supposed to be, why? Well, the color didn’t quite take the same on these highlights here…and here…and this looks a little brassy up here…
6. Long story short (too late) things went south in a hurry. Round one ended up with weird streaks still screaming for attention. Round two mostly killed the streaks but also drowned my hair. Chocolatey brown? Nope. Just call me Elvira. Without the boobs.
7. I can hear you now – what the hell, Laura, this was back at Thanksgiving, why’s it in the Monday morning rundown?? Well, friends, that would be because on Saturday I met my new most favorite person in the whole entire world. And he does hair.
8. That miracle worker spent THREE FREAKING HOURS setting things right. Perfect, no, but about 1000% better so I’m calling it right. There were highlights (only much piecier) and foils (so many foils) and a giant leap of faith when he put color/toner/some hairdresser thing on there but then – THEN – the heavens opened and the stars aligned and the little pudgy cherub angels sang a glorious chorus as we looked at my hair and went – wait for it – hmmm.
9. As in hmmm…well…it’s better, but…there’s these sections up top that glow. And nobody wants hair that glows. Nobody aiming for chocolatey brown anyway. But then – then! – this miracle worker said nope, not done, let’s tweak that again. And he did.
10. Saturday afternoon delivered my Christmas miracle along with several lessons.
10a. Yes, it’s possible to spend that many hours in a hair salon on color.
10b. Just because a salon looks super fancy and a little intimidating that doesn’t mean the people aren’t gonna be down to earth. Give peace a chance and all that jazz.
10c. I must really like this guy because I’m not what you’d call a let’s-gab-for-a-few-hours girl but this was totally painless. Aside from the whole I-wonder-if-my-hair’s-gonna-fall-out thing.