Sunday, December 24, 2006

"Auburn." The box clearly said, "Auburn."

On Friday, having decided that the skunk-in-negative look (blonde with a dark brown stripe) wasn't working for me, I decided to color my hair a lovely shade of auburn.

The look I was going for: Warm, sassy, Vail snowbunny.

The look I got: Angry, doped-out, trailer park punk rocker.

Yeah. I had pink hair. And to make matters worse, I didn't get all the hair colored, so I had pink, blonde, brown, and grey hair. I looked like a mutant peacock/flamingo hybrid.

So yesterday I dashed back into StuffMart to purchase a couple of boxes of dark brown haircolor, praying desperately that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. I entered the appropriate aisle, where an unfamiliar lady stood perusing the shelves with her teenage daughter. You know things are bad when a strange woman with a mullet the color of Ronald McDonald's hair glances at you and says, sympathetically, "Oh, honey."

Last night, I re-dyed my hair.

The look I was going for: A normal middle-aged woman.

The look I got: A middle aged woman who obviously should leave hair coloring to the professionals.

The ends are dark brown. The roots are auburn. SIGH.

May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be anything but pink.


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