Yes, this is going to be very dramatic.
So, as some of you know... I have a huge thing for platinium hair. I find it really classy and cool, and I have for a few years now. And I thought that, well, I was definitely going to try it someday.
A few weeks ago, a friend's cousin called for help on facebook : she's a hairdresser and needed someone to practice platinium blonde on after getting her diplomas and formation in this kind of stuff. She apparently wanted to be sure before proposing it to people in her professional life, so she offered to do it for free, too...
SO OBVIOUSLY THIS WAS A SIGN.
I merrily offered my hair and since nobody else was interested (you don't find that many people willing to go near-white), we decided for a meeting.
First meeting : everything is fine ! She was very relieved that I was already blonde (although a dark blonde), pale as fuck and grey-blue eyed. "It's going to fit so well !"
So yay !
AND THEN WE ACTUALLY DID IT.
Second meeting, much later, I arrived at ten at her place, madly texting a friend with stuff like "if I run away now I can still make it". Because I was very nervous. Obviously. I was starting to really question my life choices.
But well, in for a penny, you know the drill. So I didn't run away, and sat in her chair while she started coating my hair with chemicals.
I was really, really questioning my life choices, but she did have a cat to distract me with.
Two hours later, she rinced my hair, and I saw her frown.
"Oh", she said, "it seems your hair is very resistant."
And I was like, this is good right ?
My hair was a kind of sunflower blonde, not at all what was expected. She said, well, that happens sometimes, and coated my hair with more stuff.
And another hour of waiting for it to react. By that time, her boyfriend and his best mate got up (it was noon), said hi, and dropped in the sofas to watch some crap telly. I was getting more and more uncomfortable.
FINALLY, she rinced again. By then, I had been sitting there for five hours, counting the application time.
And oh god.
My hair was the color of fresh butter.
Jesus fucking fuck.
I'm not even exagerating. Take some butter, cut it, look at the color. That's it. That's my hair right now.
She said "oh well, that's normal, it takes some time to settle in", and at the moment I believed her, but now I'm thinking maybe she totally bullshitted. Anyway, she gave me some special shampoo and treatment, thanked me for my help, and sent me off.
Jesus fucking hell, might I add.
I got one person telling me it was actually nice, and most of the others laughing, grimacing, or otherwise marking their disagreement. As for me, I'm between trying to tell myself that worse things happened (my mom told me about her own first dye disaster. She apparently had blotches of red in her hair, and actually had to take an entrance exam with that. At least mine is uniform.), laughing my ass off (come on it's hilarious, like Georgia-Nicholson hilarious), and feeling very bad about my life decisions.
I'm trying to get used to it. The plan is, see if in one week the color changed, as promised, and if not, go back and ask her to redye in my natural color (or very close), as she promised she would. Apparently she also tried to go platinium once, but couldn't handle herself like this, so she's totally fine with redying in my original blonde.
Which is nice of her, really.
Meanwhile, my mom is calling me blondie and little duckling, my father is just over his shock, and my brother looks like he's about to start crying (which is ridiculous, really.)
The good new is, at least, even if I still look ridiculous for a week, I'll now know that I can't pull that look off at all (well, not this specific dye anyway), and will never long for it ever again ! Better now, when I can pull the "shoosh I'm young" card, than when I'm forty with an employer, right ?
So, anybody else has a hair disaster story to share ? Let's all cry together.
Listening to: Ask Amy
Reading: french legends
Watching: gravity falls
Playing: with my ring