When I last left you, I had a glorious victory. I said my peace, stormed out of Ulta, and then texted home saying that I wouldn’t be picking up Anthony’s Coal Fired Pizza as originally planned, because I was on the lam. I mean, I was right to walk out, but that didn’t mean that Moron Karen wasn’t going to follow me into Anthony’s where I would then have to cause yet another scene. I opted to head for the car instead. They would call if they had any issues.
During my ride home I glanced up to the rear view mirror at my streaky, wet hair, dreading what it was going to look like once it dried. After all, I left mid-process. I blasted into the house and hysterically explained what happened to the family, then went upstairs to blow-dry my hair and see the damage. I’m not gonna lie to you kids, it wasn’t pretty…
Goddamn Moron Karen had left me under the heaters for so long that she fried my hair to an abhorrent shade of gray and white! I was not happy with this new straw helmet I was burdened with. I went back and forth in my head about whether or not I should leave it alone and just let it relax for a day or two, or if I should head over to my regular stylist and get it fixed. Especially because I’m no stranger to getting my hair “fixed”. Fixing hair costs a ton; you get charged extra when you come in with already-ruined hair because there is no way of knowing what’s going to happen to it. The canvas is not blank, it is tainted, and extra care has to be taken and thus, extra costs incur.
I called over to Tangles and asked if Jessica (my regular stylist) was available to lavender-ize my recently whitened hair. Unfortunately, she wasn’t available until Monday. Hmm, it’s Thursday, so I’ll have to wait 4 days…fine, fine. Didn’t want to risk screwing it up more, so I decided to be patient, make my appointment for Monday and wait for Jessica. I was proud of myself.
*Fifteen Minutes Later*
I couldn’t take it anymore. I can’t wait ’til Monday! I have to get through the weekend with this ridiculous gray mop on my head? NO. It was going to be fine, I had a plan! Sabrina, Jared’s regular stylist, would be available that evening. She’s been there while Jessica did my hair, she knows what it’s supposed to look like, and she’s not an idiot. So, I called back and changed my appointment to IMMEDIATELY and ran on over to Tangles to have Sabrina fix me up.
The girls in the salon crowded around, flabbergasted by what I had brought to them. “What did she do to you?” and “What? They put YOU under a HEATER? They should have NEVER done that!” were some of the sentences flying around. Sabrina was up to the task, but warned me that because my hair was so white and fried, she was going to have to put in a little bit darker of a purple just to make sure my hair soaked it in, but said that everything was going to be alright and I was on my way to pale lavender hair. Phew!
*Several Hours Later*
The poor shampoo girl had worn her hands down to wrinkly little prunes having tried to wash out the hair color that stuck VERY, and unexpectedly, well. At this point Sabrina was cutting Jared’s hair (he happened to have an appointment) and told the shampoo girl to bring me over to the mirror so she could see the progress. Before I made it to the mirror, I saw it on their faces. It wasn’t good. As I made my way to the mirror, I let out a yelp at the deep, magenta hue of my hair. Sabrina gave the shampoo girl some more instructions, involving strongly scented potions and elixirs, meaning to pull the magenta out and lighten up the color. Now armed with a handheld mirror, I was told to let her know when it got to the lightness I wanted. She washed and she washed, the poor thing, it wasn’t going anywhere. They would’ve gone on all night, I had to call it.
“Guys. I don’t think we’re gonna get there tonight. Or ever. I…think…this is it,” I said while trying to muster up an understanding smile, even though I hated it and they both knew it.
We surrendered to the Magenta. What was I supposed to do now? Walk out on another stylist? This time, I could not. I brought her a tainted canvas, I couldn’t hold her accountable for this atrocity. I certainly wanted to, considering the overcompensation of color is what caused it to happen in the first place, but I knew going into it that if you go in with fucked up hair you’re taking a gamble. Besides, this was my regular salon, and I had to come back here again. It was time to cut my losses and pay for my new, cartoon-fuchsia hair…
Two Hundred dollars later, there was nothing I could do. I had to give it a break. Sabrina told me it should wash out over the next week or so, into a much lighter version of the color and something that wasn’t like a punch in the face every time I looked in the mirror. I would have to wait it out. Or would I?
For about 10 days I did; I stuck it out with the magenta. Mostly for the sake of my hair’s health and the fact that I didn’t want it to fall out, but I stuck it out nonetheless. It wasn’t getting any lighter. Those bastard magenta molecules were clinging on for dear life. Then one day, strolling through CVS, I saw hope. A box of chemicals located in the midst of all the hair dye called “Color Oops”. I read the box, it was meant for this exact purpose. Put it on, remove the accidental color you have in your hair. “Oops” fit my situation perfectly. I was SOLD. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? It doesn’t come out. Fine. Reviews online said it worked for many people. It was worth a shot!
I went home and started the process. I did just like the box said, put the rotten-egg smelling chemicals on for 20 minutes and then spent another 20 minutes rinsing and rewashing my hair. Keep rinsing and washing, they say, and more color comes out! I rinsed and I washed, my poor hair felt like straw. I heard the timer on my phone go off and thought, FINALLY, I can condition it and check out the results. I pulled a piece of my wet hair down toward my face so I could see the progress. To my complete surprise, for some weird, inexplicable reason, it was BLUE. At that point, I started laughing hysterically. Was this a joke? Why on earth did it turn blue?! I was going to lose my mind. I am clearly cursed.
I rinsed more and more to no avail. My only solace was in the fact that it was at least a light blue, so somewhat closer to fading out than it was before. So, my hair was going to be blue for a few days until I could try something else. Yes, I lack patience which gets me into these situations in the first place, but once I’m in them I don’t give up. I wasn’t going to LEAVE it like that; OBVIOUSLY. Especially since as the days went on it started turning a greenish-blue–not the pretty, ‘ooooh look turquoise’ kind but the ‘ewww look it’s mold’ kind. I wasn’t having it. I figured since the Color Oops got it partially out, even though it turned the remnants blue, another box should remove the remaining color, right? Wrong. Now $230 in the hole, the blue was sticking around. CVS didn’t have what I needed, I would have to seek out the help of professional products from Sally’s Beauty Supply or rather its Buck’s County knock-off version, Beautyland.
I made it to Beautyland with 15 minutes to spare before closing, and asked the staff for a suggestion on how to remove the blue-green menace. I was directed to a packet by L’Oréal, for $1.89. My immediate thought was, if this shit works I’m going to be pissed that I wasted $30 on Color Oops. It was a product with a warning on the label saying it was to be used by professionals only. Whatevs, with the amount of times I’ve messed up my hair, I needed something on a professional level.
Normally, with my luck, this packet would have put the final nail in the coffin and blown the hair clean off my head. However, the ultimate irony of this tiny little packet was that it worked perfectly. I could’ve flashed back two weeks, saved $30 and had my hair at a regular shade of blonde…probably, maybe, who knows. For some reason it removed the blue completely, but somehow left a slight tone of gold in it so that it didn’t go back to the whitish-gray that was all the way underneath. No idea why it did that, but it was as if my hair were professionally toned and highlighted that way.
Now we now all know the real truth behind my seemingly intentional blonde hair. It came with a shitload of money spent, shades of gray, magenta and bluish-green in between, and a whole lot of smelling like rotten eggs. And that, my friends, is why:
1.) You should NEVER, ever, ever cheat on your stylist and 2.) Patience is important.
Partial lesson learned; learning to have patience will take some…patience.