Silver Fox, Be Gone

I made an appointment to color my hair for the first¹ time in my life and I need to have a therapy session. Actually, I probably need to have a therapy session about how I think I need a therapy session for coloring my hair, but that’s beside the point.

32 years. 32 and a half years. Good ones. 

Nine more days before I probably never have my natural hair on my head again. So, I guess, let’s rage, natural hair.

-Bevvy G

¹OK, technically, I have colored my hair once before. I was a senior in high school, and a friend of mine and I were going to dye our hair black and white for our school colors. (Yes, black and white were my school colors. I was a Kardashian before I knew I was a Kardashian) So, I went over to another friend, Ardith’s house, and she worked a bottle of Loreal jet black something-or-other color into my (damn near ass-length hair. Technically, two bottles). I loved it at first. I looked a bit goth, but I’ve always loved dark hair, and I was totally into it for about two weeks. Which is when I started to realize that the 3-6 week color wasn’t even fading… it also hadn’t come out of Ardith’s mom’s leather chair or kitchen linoleum (sorry, Nan). Which is also when MamaG (a former hairdresser) started to get real pissed. So… essentially, MamaG and her friend had to take me down to the friend’s salon after hours and strip out this black hair color, while our friend’s daughter, Myrtle, (you might remember her from NOLA trip #3) watched. Everything was coming along all hunky-dory, until Myrtle, who was about 12 at the time, started looking at me like I had just said I liked Kanye or something. Which is when MamaG and her friend told me they had stripped all the color out of my hair. Good news, right? No. They had stripped all the color out of my hair, and it was now an orangey-blond (my worst nightmare). So then they had to color it brown on top of that and it… just didn’t look right (cousin Eddie) for a few months. So, I guess that means I’ve actually colored it twice before? Oy vey.

And, or the record, Nan’s chairs and floor had black spots on them until she remodeled her kitchen a few years later, and my ‘friend’ never dyed her hair white. Yes, Chelsey, I remember.

And, to settle an age-old argument… Brunettes have more fun. Trust me.