Bad Hair Daze

Things have been crazy, right? So when things go crazy? What do women do? Yes, that’s absolutely right, lady in the back with the blonde beaded Afro, they do stupid things to their hair.

I don’t know if it’s a self-destructive thing or what, but women just love to mess with their hair. Got fired? Go for a perm. Broke up? Cut it all off. Had a fight with your best friend? Rebond! It’s totally self-destructive because a lot of the time, you are already an emotional wreck, never a good time to make follicular decisions, and when you look into the mirror and see your kinky-at-the-roots, dead-straight-at-the-tips orange hair, you end up feeling even worse than before. In a terminal case, sometimes you get out of the chair feeling really GOOD about yourself, and actually thinking that you look hotter than hell with your avant-garde, funky new hair. Then three months down the road you realize that you look like a complete idiot, and that was why the monkeys at the zoo ran away when you tried to approach Baboon Lagoon. Rarely, very rarely, things go right.

I’ve been thinking about changing my hair color for ages. My brown highlights had grown out so I looked like my hair was tipped. Ego told me I looked a little like a tiger from the back, given the striping. Enough was enough, so when hair dye went on sale recently, I took a chance, grabbed a box and hoped for the best.

Sure I could go to my hairdresser and get it professionally done. But I just splurged on clothes, remember? Plus, even though my hairdresser is a wonderful human being, sometimes he succumbs to funny ideas. And then I play guinea pig because I really do like the guy, and he’s always giving me discounts and freebies and then I end up walking out with the latest style from one of America’s top hairstylist’s fall collection entitled ‘Lightbulb’.

I adore my hairdresser, I really do, but I am still recovering from the trauma of the cut he insisted would be ‘really cute’, which left me with a fringe about half an inch long. No, I’m not kidding. It looked buzz-cut. I considered hair extensions for a while, before I just let it grow back (which it has, thank goodness). He does beautiful highlights, and his dye jobs are fabulous. But I know that he would insist that I get my hair cut (I haven’t in months, thanks to the trauma of the buzzcut fringe) and I know I would succumb. So I decided to color DIY.

I got was a box of something called ‘Nectarine’, which was a very scary orange color on the box, and claimed to be golden red blonde. The actual color used on black hair was supposed to a reddish sort of shade. I calibrated it down about six shades of dark and figured it might work.

Always do the strand test. My hair is like Teflon when it comes to hair dye, so you never know what color you’ll get. I’ve tried something which excitingly was called Copper Shimmer, and it turned out black. Bloody useless, yes, Feria, I am looking at you. The strand test came back looking decidedly purplish, which worried me. But it always ends up looking a bit lighter. So, I thought, what the hell. And went for it. After all, it was only morning, and I could run out and buy another box of dye if everything went to hell.

Two hours, oodles of conditioner and bated breath later.

Slinky’s now a feline of the red-headed persuasion. All for the low, low price of $8.80.

The Slinky Cat says redheads definitely have more fun