See, here's the thing. I'm blonde. At least that's what the world thinks. In reality, no one knows what my real hair color is. Not even me. Ever since I decided to dye my hair red for a Halloween party, long ago, my true color has never again seen the light of day. I was a good redhead too. So good, in fact, that my husband married me thinking I really was one.
He says I tricked him. But since we're still together 18 years later, I guess he didn't mind too much.
But he still doesn't know what color my hair really is, since I've been varying shades of red and blond over the years, all of them artificial. One of my kids asked me the other day what color my hair really is, but I was at a loss for an answer. Twenty some odd years ago, my hair was a sort of light mousy brown, and it probably still is.
Okay, between you and me, my roots say I'm still a light mousy brown brunette, albeit a greying one, but since those telltale roots promptly get silenced by regular dye jobs, to everyone else, I'm a sun-kissed blonde.
And that requires some work. I need a base color to hide the greys, and then highlights, because blonde hair straight out of the bottle is just, well, blah.
I could just go to the salon, shell out my eurobucks, and let someone else do all the work. But I'm just too cheap to spend 70 euros to get that lovely I-can't-believe-it's-not-blonde . Okay, it's not that I'm too cheap, it's just that there are lots more important things I should be spending that money on.
So, I settle for the DIY version.
Now I know what you're thinking, DIY and hairdye can be a dangerous combination. I should know. My sister-in-law's husband has had white hair since he was in his twenties, and once we convinced him to let us dye it, and let's just say that the result wasn't entirely desirable. Unless you like green. So, you've got to be careful.
But I've been pretty lucky so far, and my hair has never turned green, so I keep risking it.
And I save loads of cash. All that it costs me is the base color, one highlighting kit (actually half, so even cheaper), and an entire afternoon. I sit around wearing a little plastic cap, poking myself in the head with something that looks suspiciously like a crochet hook, blindly trying to find tiny pre-perforated holes that are supposed to make the job of pulling out strands of hair easier. Easier than what? Okay, maybe it's easier than, say, trying to paint the Mona Lisa, but it's not exactly what I would call easy.
This, to me, is a real bad hair day. Oh, the things we women go through to look good. But hey, I guess it beats having to do this:
|Curiously enough, I found this picture on a site for the "enhancement" of certain male body parts.|
All afternoon I get "hilarious" comments like, "You look like an astronaut with that thing on." And my kids never fail to ask, "What are you doing?" Like they haven't seen me do this hundreds of times before.
Still, they ask.
And you might ask, is it worth it?
Um, let's see. My arms are tired and my hair hurts from being yanked through those pesky holes. But at least it didn't turn green. Or make me end up looking like Medusa. In fact, it looks every bit as good as when I go to the salon. So, it's been a bad hair day well spent.
And what about you?
What are you willing to do to look good? And this goes for the guys too, because I just know that you do worry about your looks.
Even though you pretend you don't.