unless you're a scary-ass clown hired to entertain (scare the crap out of) a bunch of six year olds. I, however, am not such a clown. Although I was looking like one about an hour ago, and, no, I did not sleep at a Holiday Inn Express last night. In the interest of time (I have none) I decided to highlight my hair. Y'know, to blend in those grays because I'm getting tired of coloring all the freakin' time! So I carefully read the directions, do everything the helpful instruction sheet tells me, wait the requisite amount of time, wash and dry. Imagine my surprise (horror) when I looked in the mirror and Bozo is staring back at me. Hmm. Maybe it's not so bad, I think to myself. I turn this way. I turn that way. The dog wanders in the bathroom to see what I'm doing, looks up at me, yelps and backpeddles out of the room so fast he took the rug with him.
That is not a good sign. Fighting down panic, I raced downstairs to my cabinet of hair stuff (I'll explain later) and grab a tube of color. I mix, apply and am waiting on the results as I write. Whatever it turns out to be, it's got to be better than Bozo-Orange.
Now my explanation. This is slightly embarrassing so bear with me. I was a hairdresser for 17 years. Yup. Licensed and everything. Still am licensed. And you know what? I know better. I really, really do. But because of the time situation (have none) I attempted to do what I KNOW shouldn't be done. However, in my defense, I also know how to fix it. Unfortunately, I have now spent double the amount of time it would have taken if I'd just gone to the salon. When that little voice crops up again in 3 weeks and says, "The skunk stripe is back," I will calmly put down whatever I'm doing and call the salon. I swear.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment