A Public Service Announcement

Hello friends,

I'm going to share with you a hair-raising experience. Well, not exactly. More like a hair-coloring experience.

Now, I've been coloring my own hair for, like, EVER. I vaguely remember using "Sun-In" during late middle school, and I haven't looked back since. Initially with help from my mom, and then independently, I've been using permanent dye on my hair for what seems like forever. I even did my own highlights a couple of times (once was a near-disaster but ultimately was nothing another box of color couldn't fix). The main reason is that a) I LOVE changing my hair around - it's one of the few impulsive things I tend to do; and b) going to a professional for color is SO expensive. I mean, $60 bucks for something I could do in my own bathroom for like ten bucks (or sometimes less depending what's on sale). And generally, things had always gone really well. Please note the past tense there...

So on Thursday I though, "Gee, I need to dye my hair. My roots are showing big time, and Ryan's got that firm event on Monday. And hey, let's go darker, just for the heck of it!" I went to the cupboard and pulled out my Medium Cool Brown hair dye that I'd purchased for not a whole lot, and went to work. I left it in for 25 minutes as indicated, followed everything to a tee - except the whole "stay within 2 shades of your current shade" thing. Pfff. Whatever.

I actually didn't even look in the mirror until like 3 hours later. But when I did... oh Lord have mercy. The shade came out something like dark brown to jet black, and against my pale skin was akin to Morticia Addams. But that's not the worst part - the color didn't take in several places, including a giant chunk at the crown of my head.

So I call the help-line for the product, like, immediately. And I promptly get asked if I turned my hair green. Ok, so it could have been worse. Then, I get a lecture about too drastic a change and blonde hair taking in dark dye more easily than other shades. And the chick pretty much says to let it grow out or buy a kit to strip my hair. Ok people, I did that once before, and I almost had a heart attack with the results. NEVER AGAIN.

So I bit the bullet. I called the expensive salon near our apartment. Initially, the girl at the desk said, "Well, we suggest to our clients that they wash their hair with Dawn dishsoap and then schedule an appointment in two weeks." TWO WEEKS? Are you kidding me? Thankfully I'm able to maintain my composure, and calmly I explain that my husband has this important lawyer gig I'm supposed to go to, and I can't go looking like a cross between a tiger on acid and something from "Twilight" (ok, I didn't really say that and it wasn't really THAT bad, but it sure felt that bad). Suddenly I'm transferred to a stylist who graciously offers me a spot the next morning.

Remainder of the story comes to I love my new hair, but oh did I pay the price. A five dollar mistake resulted in a triple digit-costing disaster. So the moral of the story? Sometimes it pays to just go with the safer yet slightly more expensive option.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming :)