Dye me.

There are very few relationships in the world where I can say...'I trust this person with my whole entire being'. Topping my list would be my husband, mom and dad, my best friends & obviously my hair stylist.
Okay, please don't tell me you just thought, 'hair stylist?' Listen, you are completely at this person's mercy to make you look fabulous. Not only fabulous but younger, sexier, skinnier, hipper & gorgeous. That is a tall order! We demand a lot and when our demands aren't delivered...well, there is nothing more devastating than a bad 'do.

So, you see where this is going.

I LOVE my hair appointments. The quiet, the gossip, the head massage, the oooh and gooo over my cute new look. Pamper me, pamper me!
I finally settled in with this gal and we've had a long term relationship for over 2 years now. This girl *gets* my hair, do you know how rare that is!?

So I had my appointment on Tuesday. We did our usually consult and she says, "lets add some blond for summer".

I was thinking that meant, 'let's add a few extra foils for a nice sun-kissed look'.
She was thinking, 'let's bleach the shit outta your hair because grandma-white is so 'in' right now.'

Clearly we were not on the same page.

So she globs the dye on, wraps me up in tin foil and leaves me to process under the dryer.

The reveal. Always so dramatic, even if it's just a root job. I guess I was a little too experimental back in the day because I always hold my breath...towel is off....exhale. It's good!

This time, I don't think I exhaled. I believe my eyes did pop out of my head, my chin no doubt hit the ground and I'm sure I probably gasped.
It was white. White. Okay, to be fair...the top was white, the back was brown. So not cute. Not cute at all.

So, how to handle this situation. So awkward. Do I say I hate it?
Maybe it will look better dry? Ahhh...
Okay, maybe better styled? Nope.
I'll take a peek in the window, natural light, right? Damn.
Time to pay. Panic!
Time to go. Crap! I'm leaving...leaving with my granny dye job and I'm not saying anything.
"Thanks! See you in a few!"
Really, did I say that? No! No! Say you hate it! You looooathe! You aren't leaving the salon until she fixes it! Demand her to fix it!

I left.

Why can't I just say, this looks horrible. I mean, its MY hair. I PAY for the service & I'm not happy. But for some reason I can't spit out the words...

I-Don't-Like-It

Let's just say that meaning behind the comment, "wow, you got your hair done" was not lost upon me. I called my stylist the next day to have her fix it.

In all fairness she was uber cool about the whole thing. She squeezed me in for my fix and put new colors in to tone down the white. She also explained that the dye was new and apparently "self tones" really fast on my hair. Really?
After 2 more rounds of foils, a burning scalp and gobs of leave-in condition I left looking more like me. Crispy, but me.

So I encourage you women of the 2000's...let us unite! Let us stand up and say NO to bad dye jobs and hack job trims for each and everyone of us deserves a gorgeous mane!

okay...well bring a friend who will say it for ya.

Signing off,
Cruella Deville