Friday, May 13, 2011

Dead Ends...

Some people hate going to the dentist, some people hate going for a routine check-up, some people hate getting their car inspected. 

None of that stuff worries me in the least. 

The one thing that gets my palms a little sweaty is....going to the hair dresser.

It doesn't matter if I'm going in for a simple trim or a haircut/three color combo.  I already know what the hairdresser is going to say once they get the chance to run their fingers through  my hair and ask, "So, tell me what you're wanting done today?"  Before they even get the question out of their mouth, they are already thinking about all the hair treatments, color correction, and major dead-end removal that my pathetic mane needs.

Let me take a moment to defend myself.  It's important that you understand something about my upbringing before I go any further.  I grew up in the country, okay.  In WV, we learn to color, highlight, cut, trim, and by-golly even Flowbee our dag-on hair ourselves.  Why pay tons of money to have something done that your third cousin learned to do after watching an infomerical non-stop because the TV got stuck on QVC and she couldn't find the remote?  Before I learned to drive I knew how to pull my own hair through a highlighting cap using a hand mirror. Don't act like you're not impressed!

Has your sister's best friend attended two days of beauty school?  Then she is more than qualified to cut my hair to look like Rachel from Friends.  Did you pass Chemistry in high school with a high D?  Then you can use the over-the-counter highlighting kit to bleach my hair.  Have you ever made one of those super complicated snowflakes out of folded paper?  Then you can trim my hair.


<---Better than that
In fifth grade I cut my shoulder length hair into a bob one day because my mom left me at home alone...with my father....and a new pair of scissors. 

After one very unfortunate incident where I fell asleep while getting my hair cut, my cousin Heather helped me correct the worst hair cut ever given to a human being.  People with naturally curly hair should never be given a fade.  Not even if they accidentally fall asleep while you talk to your boyfriend on your cell phone.  She stayed up with me until four in the morning trying to help me fix it so that I wouldn't jump off a bridge like I threatened.  We end up with something I could deal with, but I didn't shake the nickname Sharon Stone for awhile.  I always vowed to never do anything in my life that would leave me with Sharon Stone as a nickname. 

Me and Heather
I once turned my hair orange, a la Ronald McDonald, while trying to accomplish a "golden blond" look.  My mom ran out to get some brown hair color and my dad thoughtfully came up with ways that I could possibly work from home.

This may sound crazy to some of you, but I have a feeling there are some other country folks out there that will completely understand what I'm talking about.

Now that I have done the worst job on Earth defending my DIY hair care addiction, I'll tell you about going to the hair dresser yesterday.

First of all, I have been highlighting and coloring my hair myself for the last few years.  Hair care lay-people ( of the world think my hair color is usually pretty decent, but it only takes a profeesional stylist .0007 seconds to say, "'ve been doing your own hair color, I see."  *Palms sweating

Second of all, I always wait waaaaay too long to get my hair trimmed.  I wait until we are in code red (aka...Hermoine Granger) territory before I decide to do something about it.  By that time, most of my hairs are split to the roots and short of shaving my head, I have to settle of them taking at least two months worth of hard-earned growth from my lovely locks.

Most hair stylists in WV are used to seeing home-made hair cuts and color, but when I was DC, the stylists couldn't believe that anyone in their right mind would ever grab a box of hair color off the discount shelf in Big Lots.  When asked who the last person was to cut my hair, I would lie and say their competetors salon name instead of telling them that I got bored one night and did it myself while drinking wine and watching a Netflix marathon of Parks and Recreation.  Every once in a while a miracle would happen and a stylist in a fancy-pants DC salon would say that whoever did my last color did an excellent job.  I would get myself all puffed up until I would, once again, turn my hair purple for a few days. 

I'm not even going to end this post with a touching Jesus Juke about trimming dead ends, or going to a Professionals for our needs.  Nope. I'm just going to leave you to picture me with purple hair.  Happy Friday.


DIY Hair Care Queen

Have you ever had a DIY home hair care disaster?  Are you from the country, and you like it that way?  Do you get nervous going to the salon?

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