In preparation for fall, I need to deal with my roots, not my plants, my hair. Today was hair dying day. Once upon a time, I would pay a lovely person to do this for me. That person would also add low lights (lites??) and high lights and I would sit with a stack of magazines and a cup of coffee and all was right with the world. Then I would pay the lovely person well over $100. That was without a blow out because I was just getting into my vehicle and driving home. I could do that with a damp head.
I have played around with dying my own hair over the years. It started back in highschool and university days when I would put a semi-permanent colour on my hair to get a bit of a strawberry blonde look. I also would comb lemon juice into the front of my hair and sit out in the sun so I would get high lights framing my face. However, those were also the days of perms. Does anyone even get a perm anymore? I had long hair and would get a spiral perm! God I loved those perms. I was an 80's girl. I would hang my head upside down and put mousse in my hair, stick the diffuser on the end of my blowdryer and scrunch for all I was worth. I also got the high lights where you wore a little holey cap and someone used a crochet hook looking device to pull strands of hair through the holes and apply the brain searing chemicals to create a "natural" sun kissed look. Highschool was literally spent in a haze of mousse, gel, and hairspray. Shoulder pads and big earrings also played a part in the look. I would tease my bangs. If the bangs wouldn't stay up high, I would at least pop my collar up to achieve an upward appearance.
Now I pay about $13.00 for a box of hair colour and that does me for about two months. (My hair does grow quickly and I should probably do it more often, but life gets busy). Here are some of the preparations:
I let my husband know that I was doing my hair. That means, I cannot be contacted, I am unavailable, do not disturb. Hair dying and canning are the two times that you need to just leave me alone. However, husbands, like children seem to need you the most when you are your busiest. As I was squeezing the contents of the bottle along my roots, I hear my husband call from the kitchen, "The computer did that thing again!"
Seriously?? How do you expect me to be gloriously beautiful if you disturb the process? Yes, that's a towel clamped around my neck. It's my hair dying towel. It is relegated to this job only, as various stains can attest.
As if by magic, I emerge about 45 minutes later, freshly washed and coifed, practically stunning.
Have a look at those roots!! That one area appears dark, but I think it's a shadow of my phone. It actually isn't dark. And, how 'bout those picture taking skills?!?! That's not my arm in the shot.
Nor, is that my finger in the corner of that shot.
So... I ask you... do you go to the hair dresser to have your colour done? Are you simply such a spring chicken that you don't require a dye job? Or are you one of the brave (and cheap!) ones who dyes her own hair. Do you even (sharp intake of breath) do your own highlights?? Some day I'll work up the nerve.