I started growing hair in April of 2016.
By April of 2017 I had soft sandy brown hair. I also had shiny silver hairs one at a time randomly throughout, and a slight bit of “chemo” curls. I’d never had curls before so I didn’t really know how to deal with them. Eventually the curls turned into frizz at the bottom of an otherwise smooth soft shaft of hair.
Then I went through a break up and cut the frizz off the bottom. I liked it, but honestly I didn’t think much one way or the other about hair. I had hair and I was grateful.
Here’s where the bullshit happens.
The job I currently have doesn’t care about hair color and I was asked to start a breast cancer initiative. (The initiative never took off because no one wanted to participate) So I got the bright idea to color my hair pink. Beautiful bright pink.
Middle just put pink color in my hair without any lift or process. It works for her hair. When I rinsed my hair, the color just washed down the drain. Apparently that method doesn’t work for me.
The next day I lifted my color and ended up with a bleached brassy orange. It would not lift lighter than that. I did a hair masque, mixed the developer and color, deposited the color. Shampooed and put conditioner on for a long time. Rinsed and dried my hair. It was a beautiful bright pink and I loved it. This is the color that I was meant to have.
I bought color safe shampoo and put dye in my conditioner, btw.
Three days later as I’m adjusting to cooler showers and washing my hair in cold water, I watch in horror as my beautiful pink rinsed down the drain. The orange bullshit is back. I waited a few days, switched colors to a different pink.
This time I just put the color in with no developer and slept in the pink color. I rinsed it out in ice cold water bright and early. Again it was beautiful and vibrant. I start to notice the hair is dry and brittle. The ends are starting to fray a bit. I wash my hair in cold water several days later and …. It’s orange again.
This is when I cry and realize the orange is just horrible and I probably have to live with it.
Youngest suggests that perhaps a darker color. She has some purple. Maybe the darker pigment will hold. We wait a few days and dye my hair thinking it will fade to a pretty silver.
It’s a lovely shade of purple. It’s not my thing, but it’s a thing better than orange. Every time I look in the mirror I think, it’s nice, but it’s not me. I can’t wait until a few days pass and I get to wash it to see if it fades a little.
I wash my hair and all the purple goes down the drain.
Only this time instead of orange….
Yes, green. Yes, I cried.
I tried a dark brown that night because hell… What’s the worse that could happen. Yeah, it rinsed out. Yeah, the green remained.
I’m just resigned to the fact that I’ll just have this hair until it grows out.
I’m officially done fucking with my hair. I know it looks like a Brillo pad and a Sally’s beauty supply had a drunken night of passion, had a baby, and that baby took a shit on my head.
This is where it gets worse. Much much worse.
I had the flu while on probation at work and the doctor refused to release me stating I needed to be in the hospital, so I missed an entire week of work. That absence disqualified me from receiving benefits. I have to wait into January 1st 2019. If I can get another job and go the 90 days, I can have benefits. Sooooo I’ve been looking for another job. This is relevant because….
I got an interview around the same time my hair turned green. I cannot just allow this to remain during an interview without explanation. Apparently much as I want to be, I am not done.
Cue panic and insecurities.
H steps in. I love and adore her. I could write post after post about her; how proud I am, how much I miss her, how much I want to drive to Atlanta and treat her like a Queen.
She walks me through a temporary fix that will get me through the interview.
A red protein filler that kinda cancels out the green is purchased and applied. My hair picks up random strands of nearly every color but the predominant color is a strange brassy red/orange/purple.
I go to the interview and of course the job was misrepresented. It was not a good fit at all.
I’ve reached the point where I’m numb to the hair. I no longer wash it in cold to preserve color. I no longer put certain conditioner in it to coat. I don’t rub coconut oil in my hair randomly. I’m just done.
I flippantly state that when I can afford it, I’ll just get a really short pixie. Until then whatthefuckever. This is my hair.
Then the girls are trying to decide on Mother’s Day. I told them to go in on my haircut because I can’t afford anything until next week.
Friday, spur of the moment, Elder whipped into a shop. Sitting in the chair, the poor woman tasked with this transformation was speechless for a good 30 seconds. Then she runs her fingers in my hair, inspecting the damage. She starts to regain speech and begins “Okay, um. Huh. Well… Okay. Okay. This is…. Why is this spot purple? Oh my. We can um. Okay yes, we can fix this. I think.” Then she got to work.
As the damage fell away, and this new sassy pixie took it’s place, I talked to her about doing her breast exam.
I walked out of the shop glad to be done with the bullshit hair disaster of 2018.