As some of you may or may not know, last week I had my hair colored and highlighted for the very first time! Yay! I am now among the masses of women who put harmful chemicals and animal doodoo in their hair to look different. Except I went to a place that only uses organic hair jiz so good for me, being so sustainable. Here’s the story.
Lately I’ve been bored with my hair, love it as I might, and wanted something new. I contemplated cutting it super short, but was deterred by that idea since a) I tried it once and it was a disaster, b) some other reasons but all I remember is the disaster. So then I thought, fine, trim up the layers, boring. Then I was inspired to color it and get highlights. Different? Yes! So I go for my free consultation, thumb through some fashion mags and point out some color that I like and we decide to go for a deep mahogany with some reddish tints. I tell the lady I want it to be subtle but noticeable, there but not streaky, and as natural looking as possible. I mean I work in a professional office, right? I don’t want to leave there looking like my next stop will be to have my lip and eyebrow pierced, pick up some black lipstick, then on to the tattoo parlor where I’ll get myself a nice sleeve of classy tattoos. [Ahem: no offense to anyone with lip/eyebrow piercings or tattoos rocking black lipstick…it’s just if you know me, you know it’s not for me. We’re all God’s children. And I guarantee that you with the piercings and intense lip color do not work in a professional IT office.] Anywho. So I anxiously await appointment the following week, get myself up extra early and arrive semi-promptly for my 7:45am appointment for cut, color, and foils, as it’s apparently called. 2 hours go by and I’ve been trimmed, reshaped, and painted all over with slimy gook all over my head. I’m excited and can’t wait to see the new, edgier me! Finally, we wash and dry my hair and it is fantastic. I think. Each time I look in the mirror I am more and more unsure that I like it. But I am now very late for work and would really just like to leave, so I shrug it off thinking it’s just me and it’s just new and whatever I’ll get used to it. Right.
So my first hint that it’s not good is when my boss comes over later that day and says: “Miss Sassy Pants! [no he didn’t call me that, silly] You really do love Virginia Tech don’t you!” I’m wearing a cream sweater and brown dress pants, nothing with VT gear or colors on it. I smile hesitantly, knowing something else is coming and ask him what he’s referring to. He smiles big, like he’s giving me a big compliment and is so proud of himself for noticing, “Your hair! It’s perfect VT colors, isn’t it?!” Um. I close my eyes for a brief moment, thinking maybe when I open them he will have disappeared. Yes, I love my school. Virginia Tech for Life, people. But no, I do not have, nor do I want maroon and orange in my hair. I smile painfully and nod and he chuckles and finally walks away, after telling me some horrendous story about his wife coloring her hair which I am sure she would not have wanted him telling anyone. Men. Yeesh.
The next person I see who comments is one of the other dudes I work with. Quote: “Hey. You colored your hair.” All geniuses, my coworkers. Realize this: I work with a bunch of dudes. Dudes are all over this floor and they dominate the building. Old ones, young ones, married ones, fat ones, skinny ones. All clueless. None of them are my bffs, none of them have been with me through other hair disasters, and none of them are qualified to give honest feedback. So I am clueless all day as to how it really looks. Is it really terrible? Is it super edgy and I just can’t get used to seeing red/orange/pink tints in my hair when I walk past my reflection? By the end of the day I am near panic with not knowing. I call home to Momma Sassy and warn her that the hair situation is questionable and she should prepare herself. She hmph’d and 20 minutes later I walked in the door to her skeptical face. Which then turned into her “I’m-horrified-but-am-trying-to-look-semi-neutral-and-think-of-something-nice-to-say-while-still-conveying-my-dislike” face. We then discussed my impending career change from IT professional to punk rock groupie. Apparently with my dark rimmed glasses, purple nail polish, and red/orange/pink streaked frizz ball hair I’d fit in, but would have to re-think my cable knit sweater and cuffed dress pants with Franco Sarto flats wardrobe. So we fluff (quick curly hair fix: always fluff) and try to be optimistic and hide the pink/orange-y looking pieces but to no avail. I decide it must be fixed immediately. Again, no offense meant towards anyone who has orange or pink or red or crazy highlighted hair. You probably pull it off somehow. You probably actually are edgy and into punk rock. But you also probably don’t work in a professional office full of baby boomers who only dye their hair to hide the gray. They would judge me and think I’m totally weird and trashy. And not give me a raise.
So the next morning I give this special salon a pronto phone call and leave a stern but friendly voicemail for them, relaying my semi positive and mostly negative feelings toward my hair and ask them to call me back ASAP so I can try to schedule a fixer-upper. Who’s surprised that they never called me back? Anyone? No? I sort of was, since they’re in the service industry and I would have thought they’d have jumped at the chance to fix it in order to keep a new client. But no. So the lady who cuts Ma’s hair schedules me for an early appointment this morning and guess what! It took her all of 20 minutes to tone down the brightness a couple notches and reduce the rainbow affect.
Bottom line in this annoying/expensive life lesson is this: never make changes to your hair without a trusted pal at your side. I could have really used some honest Foxy feedback or the bluntness of Miss Fancy Boots. For realz, girl would have taken one look at me and said “No ma’am, change that right now!” You know? No sugar, just truth. We all have one of those. Unfortunately no one was there with me and I was freaking out and in desperate need of truth and sugar. Having hair you are not proud of is not sassy, and I must admit for those couple of days before it was fixed, I was not lovin myself and it showed. I know some of you are scoffing at me, shaking your head, wondering how it is that hair could matter so much. Well it doesn’t really, but when you don’t feel good about yourself (for whatever pitiful reason) and can’t do anything to fix it immediately, then you don’t feel confident. Anywho, pity party is over, new hair is fab now, and Miss Sassy is back. BAM.