Close followers of my articles (I'm sure there are many) will remember a column I wrote last October about the whimsical fun of pink hair.
Five months of whimsical fun later, I was fed up. Although the box I used warned that the color would only last "up to six weeks," here I was in February, pink hair lasting.
Don't get me wrong, pink hair was great; I was complimented by strangers everywhere I went and one little girl asked me if I was a fairy princess.
However, I was ready to look less like a Disney character and more like the adult I pretend to be.
So I made an appointment at the hair salon, expecting to skip in, have my hair lathered up with chemicals and skip out, blonde again.
Silly me.
1:30 p.m.--The stylist told me she could strip the color out, but might have to try a couple of times before it was all out.
2:05 p.m.--The stripper (har) did not work at all; she could have used baby shampoo for all the good it did not do.
2:10 p.m.--Having a hair stylist saying "we need to talk" is scary. The new plan is to dye my whole head blonde in hopes it will cover up the pink.
3:00 p.m.--My hair looks like Barbie's: creepy, fake and flat. Oh, and still pink. The whole salon is gathered around my head asking what on earth dye did I use and marveling at it's cockroach resiliency. I'm on the verge of hysteria.
The stylist wants to have another talk, in which she proposes adding highlights and low lights to cover up the pink.
(Aside: I've never dyed my hair, I don't even really know what high lights and low lights are and oh yeah, my hair is still pink).
They try to console me by telling me I'll look like Jennifer Aniston. I bite my lip wanting to scream, "I don't want to look like Jennifer Aniston, I want my original hair back!"
4:05 p.m.--After an hour of seething under a halo of tinfoil and chemicals, I mentally chant over and over that it is not the stylist's fault my hair is pink and if I harmed her, my hair would definitely still be pink.
4:45 p.m.--The final unveiling shows my hair looking more or less naturally blonde.
5:15 p.m.--The irony of dying natural blonde hair to look naturally blonde is not lost on me.
5:30 p.m.--Wait, there are still FADED STRIPS OF PINK. I shoot out panicked texts to my girlfriends informing them I need drinks. Many drinks.
Epilogue - After nearly four hours and two weeks worth of blown paychecks later at the salon, my hair is more or less normal. My friends point out that there is still pink in my hair; more tactful friends say it looks like a faded magenta.
Do I regret having pink hair? Not at all. Do I regret getting pink hair from a box I found at CVS? Yes.
So next time you want to do something whimsical and fun, do it right and don't get it from the drug store. Risks are worth investing in and it will save you mild bouts of hysteria later.
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