Next time you are in the store trying to decide on hair dye and you can't make up your mind and you can't get any of your girlfriends on the phone for advice, just go home. Go home, go home, go home, go home, GO HOME.
So last night I went and got my hair cut at Salon Red. Samantha, as always, did a terrific job. However, I may have made a crucial tactical error. I requested "edgy."
Now, everybody knows that I do not have an edgy personality. Everybody but me, that is. So I now have an edgy cut that is terrific, don't get me wrong, but I don't really know how to style it (I am a klutz with styling my hair) and my coworkers are remarking that it doesn't have as much body as last time. So now I am asking myself what possessed me to not get the exact same cut I had last time, which was adorable. This cut looks kinda like Lola's in Run Lola Run, but I'm not sure if I can pull it off. And now I'm freaking thinking about having hair that doesn't really suit me for the next couple of months.
So I decided that since my roots were showing, it was time to get new color to go with the new cut. I headed to Tar-jhay and the hair-dye aisle.
This is the part where things get really dicey.
There it was: the box of Feria Power Red Blowout Burgundy that served me so well last time. Gorgeous color. All I had to do was get the box and go.
But no. I just had to look around. And that's when I found the Garnier Nutrisse Black Cherry. The little sample swatch of hair had actual purple strands in it. And this, of course, only reminded me of my quest to be The Purple-Haired Chick.
At this point, an angel popped up on one shoulder and a devil on the other.
Angel: Kelly, be sensible. Stick with the color you loved so much last time.
Devil: Aw, come on. What's the fun in that? Be adventurous! Try something new!
Angel: Why mess with perfection?
Devil: Look at it! It's even MORE purple!
Angel: Do you really want to take the chance? It's your hair!
Devil: Look, it's a buck cheaper than the other one!
Angel: Aw, the hell with you. I'm going back to my cloud.
See, even my guardian angel swears.
Devil: And look, the chick on this box is prettier than the chick on the other box!
Brain: Logic... synapses... failing... *BOOM*
Me: I'll take it!!
So I went home, popped open a bottle of cider (atomicnumber51: "Nobody dyes their hair sober"), and got started. This time I think I managed not to get dye all over the apartment. I left it on longer than the directions said, per ariedana's instructions, watched some basketball and got pissed at all the reporters talking about having compassion for Kobe Bryant, then rinsed my hair and promptly fell asleep because I was exhausted.
I woke up at 4 in the morning. This is a new and very annoying habit of mine. I'm blaming the meds.
I got up, looked in the mirror, and... well, let's just say suddenly I was living my own version of the Talking Heads song "Once in a Lifetime."
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful hair
And you may tell yourself
MY GOD!! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!
My hair was black. Or, at least it looked pretty damn black. This was not what I intended. I don't have the complexion for it. I'm not really a Goth. I made a note to forget about being a punk for Halloween and just be a Goth instead.
Well, in the bright light of day and the fluorescent lights of the library (and an extra wash to fade the color), maybe it's not that bad. It's an almost-black reddish purple. Or purplish red. Something like that. The coworkers I've polled say it looks fine. But note to myself: Be more careful next time.