Friday was my much anticipated hair appointment with Allison. Oh, I love this girl. She rocks like Def Leppard did back in the '80's. (actually, they still rock to me). Call me old school.
I was so nervous heading into her shop. Why, you ask? Why?
It was "Back-to-blond" day. For those of you who are not frequent readers of my blog (well, probably all of you)...I dyed my hair brown just after Christmas.
It was fun for about 2 weeks. Then, I started experiencing unusual bleach withdrawals. You know, nausea, vomiting, unexplained rashes. No, not really.
I just missed my blond hair. I have been blond my entire life. Trying darker was something I have always wanted to do. And, I did.
And, I'm done.
The whole week leading up to the appointment I was thinking--my hair will fall out. I could possibly be bald. If it doesn't fall out, it will be orange. If it doesn't turn orange it will be fried....french-fried. If it's not fried, it will look like I got in a fight with a crimping iron and the crimping iron won. If it's.....Okay, I will shut up.
With that said....what's a girl to do?
Trust her fairy-godmother.....I mean hair stylist.
Allison calmly looked at me and said.."Piece of cake..you will LOVE it when I'm done. "
What? That's it? Are you sure?? Look, look real closely...my hair is dark brown.
Like a drill Sargent she instructs me: "Smock on, I will get the bleach ready."
Ohhhhhh, just the word "bleach" got my heart pumping. Bleach, oh bleach-- I have surely missed you, my friend.
3 hours later, yes 3 hours.....and 3 bowls of bleach later....the sun came out. On my head.
I wanted to hug her and kiss her, but I refrained. She rocks. Have I told you that?
So, I know you are dying or shall I say "dyeing" to see the final result. Pardon the corny pun. I couldn't resist. Keep in mind, I was not looking my best. I just rolled out of bed and snapped a picture.....
And there you have it.
still high off 3 bowls of bleach,
