True Confession #369

Every attempt I have ever made to dye my own hair has ended in dismal failure.

There was the time a Cohagen Play called for a Norma Desmond type character, an aging actress who was fighting the good fight and losing.  I was 30 and decided to dye my hair auburn for the part.

The box said, "Temporary color! Washes out in 30 washes!"

They lied.

I washed my hair twice a day for 45 days and still had the most magenta hair you've ever seen. It was not a good color for me. Shoot, it wouldn't have been a good color for Dame Edna!

Still.....it could've been a fluke, right?

Wrong.

There was the time Traci and Beth and I were supposed to go to Billings for a girls weekend, but Beth begged out saying her babies were too young and Traci's husband Scott faked a heart attack (another blog post, another time) and she decided she'd better stay home, and I wasn't bright enough to see the great neon signs God put in front of me, so I went ahead for the Girl Weekend.

And it was wretched, because I don't shop. (That's what everyone in Eastern Montana goes to Billings for.)

So, sitting in the motel room alone, after having scrolled through all 219 channels of nothing on, it occurred to me that I had at my disposal, an endless supply of clean towels and a noon checkout the next day.

What to do, what to do?

I'll dye my hair!

(At this point, if you can imagine guardian angels banging their blessed heads against the motel wall, you'd have it right.  I thought it was just noisy neighbors.)

The kit said, "If your hair is THIS color (lightish brownish blonde) then the effects you will achieve will be THIS (lightish brownish blonde with slightly lighter highlights)!"

They lied.

6 bathtowels, 2 hand towels, 3 washcloths and 45 minutes later, my hair was (and I'm NOT kidding you) a rather purplish tone, with orange-ish highlights. It was not a good color for me.

I ended up calling my regular stylist and confessing the whole thing, begging for an appointment as soon as possible. No problem! She had an opening in....9 days.

I'll TAKE it!

(I'm SURE she hung up the phone laughing. I would, if I was her. And it was funny!)

Good thing I live on a ranch, 25 miles from the nearest gathering of 20 or more people.

So.....

I haven't seen my stylist (yes! same one) since November.  And it's to the point of really ugly, where the seam of grey hair is concerned.  So ugly that I bought a box of dye that absolutely guarantees it will cover the grey in such a natural way that not even my mother would be able to tell.  I would just make an appointment, but as you may have noticed, we're in the throes of calving and that's just not going to work.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

I'm too chicken.

Last night, after I got home from Miles, I decided I was too tired.

This morning, I had to bake a pie.

This afternoon, while the kids were napping, I dealt with laundry and packed a care package.

This evening, we had family movie night.

Now that I'm done with the blog post, it will be too late to start a project of this magnitude.

I set the alarm clock for 5:00 a.m.

Stay tuned.....

*******************Die Job (sic)***********************

They lied.

My hair is now a dark, mahogany brown, instead of the gentle, blondish color that was advertised. 

Drats.

And a little tip for those of you who are contemplating a coloring-at-home: It's not Nice and it's not Easy.  If you have any klutzy tendencies, whatsoever, leave it to a professional! You have to mix potions.  You have to apply the potions in a scientific way and time the activation precisely.  You have to be able to put goop on your hair without gooping everything around you! (I cannot.) You have to keep your wadded up, gooped up hair from touching anything else for 20 minutes!  Which means you cannot attend to your offspring's every whim for nearly 3/4's of an hour!

But, on the sunny side, you can't notice the grey anymore!

Now....where DID I put that fedora?