Drowning My Sorrows in Hair Dye

Could someone please explain, to me, why, when I am feeling down, I head straight for the hair salon.

Does that seem healthy to you guys?

I mean, the fact that I think if I look prettier that my life will be better. And yes, I know that in order for that assumption to be true, I first have to suspend the disbelief that it actually does make me prettier! So stop being snarky!

Yesterday, I was down in the dumps. I missed my yoga class...the horror.....and I had some time to wade in my pool of self-pity. I had a solution that would fix everything. "This gym has a full salon. I'll go and get my hair done." Oh, yes, that will fix everything.

So, I walked in and asked for the next available appointment. Ruthie was the next stylist available. I was assured that Ruthie was not just out of school and that she had been doing hair for over 1 year. That sounded good to me. There was no stopping me now - I was going to be beautiful even if I felt like shit inside.

When Ruthie came to greet me, she had faded pink hair, her clothes were a cross of high school gym class and Madonna's Like a Virgin video. But her style wasn't what really concerned me, it was the fact that she looked to be about 2yrs old. Ok, yes, I know she had to be 18 to do hair, but there was no way that this girl had any experience outside of Minnesota. Minnesota hair is a whole 'nother topic that I'll save for another post.

As we discussed hair color, she whipped out the color swatches. I chose two that I wanted her to mix, and asked that she add just a touch of gold. Operative words, JUST A TOUCH.

The dye went on. The aroma of ammonia, the taste of cucumber water, magazines that made me feel even worse about myself, all of the horribly dressed stylists walking by.

Not feeling much better.

My hair turned out to be gold plated, Chikita orange. It would have glowed had we turned out the lights. I saw it, laughed...Ruthie saw it and ran in the back to get help.

Nope, not feeling any better!

The game plan was to put a toner on it. For those of you who are new to this hair dye thing, toner is what they use when they screw up. It's a rinse that they put over the screwed up color to "tone" it down.

Well, the toner didn't work. Nothing could smoulder the glow of this Chikita.

And, you guessed it, I'm definitely not feeling any better!

Eventually, the only other option was to dye my hair brown and cover the whole mess up. So, now I am a brunette. They say that brunettes look intelligent, but we all know that it was not my intelligence that got me into this mess.

It was my inability to cope. It was my choice to look for a quick fix instead of just dealing with my feelings. Hell, instead, I could have at least gone shopping. That way could at least return the items.

When you dye your hair, there in no return!

Lesson learned: I would rather be down in the dumps about my life than down in the dumps about my appearance.

My appearance is much too important!



Hair, Beauty