As I previously mentioned, I’m on a hair journey. Well, I never officially called it that, but now I am. Henceforth, I will be on a hair journey, now it’s official. So, on this journey, I decided to get the exclusive Brazilian Blowout this coming Wednesday. When I decide to do something to my hair, I go all out. And it happens at least twice a year. Sometimes I chop it all off or get bangs. Maybe I’ll bleach it out or go jet black.
It’s just what I’m feeling on that Saturday. It’s usually a Saturday. That’s when the magic that is Mr. Curtis Salon is open, so I work with his schedule! So yesterday (a Saturday, of course) I decided to dye my brownish/blondish hair dark reddish almost purple. And I did it in my home salon (bathroom).
When I was rinsing the color out in the shower, it looked like a murder scene. It was insane and I looked like I was pushed around and bruised up due to the mess I made on my neck and ears with the dye. Any way, I missed big parts of my hair and it looked really ridiculous. Upon Curtis investigating my terrible hair job, I decided to bleach out my hair and re-dye it brown with blonde highlights.
Sounds simple. Oh no. Nothing with my rat’s nest is ever simple. So I get the hair color remover and new dye kit. I get home and prep everything while my Rams played. (Boo, Rams. Yay, Raiders!) During this time, I discover that my hair has ingested the whole bottle of remover and needed at least four more bottles for complete coverage. What the hell was I going to do?
So I quickly washed the crap out, still doing some damage in the meantime and finally made the right decision. I called the salon in the mall, since it’s the only place open in this dump of a town on a Sunday. I hustled up there with my face covered in shame.
Luckily the hairdresser on staff assured me she could fix my terrible attempt at doing my own hair. She proceeded to literally bleach my locks to a lovely shade of carrot orange and then dyed it to a beautiful caramel. It looks like I’m human again. I’m so happy I can go to Wal-Mart and look out of place because I don’t look like a freak. Just like the lady who thinks she’s better than the rest of the cretins that shop there.
Side note and question – Any time I mention to a stylist that I am very tender headed due to over processing and having a rough handed mother who yanked my long hair with a comb every morning as a child, they say, “Oh, I’ll be careful and gentle.” Then they proceed to rip my hair out by the root. Do they teach this in cosmetology classes? I think I saw my stylist use a renaissance style mace to comb the bleach thru my hair. I’m still cringing at the pain. But beauty is pain! I must look spectacular, because I’m pretty sure my scalp is still bleeding.
Love,
Stephanie
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