Advice For Life


It's been a wild week and it's only half over.

Ever have one of those nights where you're really, really tired so you go to bed at ten or ten thirty and then can't get to sleep?  Tonight's one of those nights for me.  So, after forty five minutes of flopping around like a fish on the beach, I had a bright idea.

*Words of warning number one: Ideas that happen after you've already gone to bed are rarely 'good' ideas*

I'll just go trim my hair and go ahead and color it. It'll only take an hour or so and then I'll be tired enough to go to sleep.

So I change into my painting/lawnmowing/gardening/oil changing/hair dyeing sweats and get everything ready to do my hair.  Now, my hair grows REALLY fast. It's fine hair, but there's a lot of it. I haven't cut it in a while, so it was down to the curve of my back. I knew it would take two boxes of dye. My hair is pretty easy to cut--it's long hair with a long bang.  I had a lot of dead ends that just needed to go if the color was going to stick. So I pick up my scissors and whack off the ends of my hair.

*Words of warning number two: never combine 'scissors' and 'hair' after you've already taken your nightime meds.*

Oh crap.

I cut SIX INCHES OF MY HAIR OFF.

You saw that, right? SIX INCHES! My hair is now above my shoulder blades.  I could have cried. I was looking at myself in the mirror and saw my long hair on the left and didn't see my long hair on the right. Well, there wasn't much of a choice after that. I had to cut it all that length.  Then I separated it into sections and started coloring my hair.

I've colored my hair for about fifteen years.  I didn't want to color my hair--but I landed the lead of Evita and instead of wigging me, the costumer thought it would be better to bleach my hair out. 

*Words of warning number three--if you're a redhead NEVER EVER EVER bleach your hair to platinum blonde.  Why, you ask? Listen to this story coming up next.*

It took a professional stylist seven hours to bleach all the red out of my hair.  After two hours, my hair was University of Tennessee orange. Not pretty.  He kept working at it though and evenutally I had platinum blonde hair--and blood blisters all over my scalp. I cried--the chemicals burned so badly.  But we didn't have a choice. My hair turned such an awful color from the bleach that we had to keep going.

And my hair was never the same color of red again.  *sigh*  I've yet to find a hair color that's even close.  But there are a couple of different shades of red I use that I really like and I usually wobble back and forth between them. So the hair was trimmed and the color was on and I went out to see what the husband was doing in the living room.  We started watching a show on television and then got into a debate that involved looking information up on line.

And I forgot I had coloring on my hair.

*words of warning number four--always keep track of time when you're coloring your hair!*

Let's just say that my hair is RED!
Go ahead. Laugh. I know it's funny. Guess who's going to the salon tomorrow? Life sucks.

Comments

Falen said…
aww that stinks. This is why i never cut my own hair.
Though i guess it could be worse. Your hair could be, like, green or something. And not a purposeful attractive green either
Celina Summers said…
Yes, that would definitely be an Anne of Green Gables moment. When I was a kid I could totally relate to the red-headed little girls of literature--I had Anne's talent for trouble and Pippi Longstocking's unfortunate braids and freckles.

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