Color Me Red

To those that celebrate, Happy Easter. To everyone else, Happy Sunday!

Among my to-do list this week was “color hair”. Back in January I had my hair professionally colored. I had never colored my hair before, so I splurged and had a pro do it. I thought a change would be nice and wanted to see what it would be like to be a redhead for a while. Besides, Beau Hunk likes redheads, and since he’s morally obligated to sleep only with me, I thought he might enjoy a redhead to play with for a little while. Nothing drastic, just a little strawberry to my original blonde.

I loved it. Beau Hunk loved it. It was awesome. But since I have hair down to my waist, I went with a temporary color. There’s no way I want to keep up with roots and such, and if I hated it, I didn’t want to be stuck with it for the next five years.

The only problem with the pro color was the price – $100. Yow!! That’s fine for a birthday splurge, but there’s no way I can pay that kind of green to get red every month. So last month I went down to Wally Mart and spent $8 on a package of Clairol non-permanent color. The color came out fine, but being the first time I had ever colored my own hair (or anyone else’s, come to think of it), I did a bit of a hack job. I missed spots, and didn’t use enough of the formula. That was no big deal, because the color was close enough to my own that the missed spots didn’t really show much after a week of washing.

Today I re-did the color. This time I was much more diligent, and used the entire bottle of formula. I rinsed out the color and was very pleased with the result. I had a nice, even copper color going, and didn’t see any obvious missed spots.

Then I grabbed the hand mirror and looked at the back of my head. Right on the crown of my head, I have a bright red spot that I cannot explain. It’s about the size of a baseball, and is right there on the absolute top of my head, so that no matter where I part my hair, it’s right there. And brother, is it red. I mean red. Cherry red. Bright red. Clown red. Holy shit.

The good news is that it’s temporary, so in the long run, no big deal. Within two weeks I probably won’t even be able to see it. Hell, maybe even in one week. But until then, I’ve got this spot that looks like I got clonked on the noggin with Bozo. I have no idea how this happened, since that part wasn’t colored first, and it wasn’t colored last. But man oh man, it sure is colored differently!

If I pull my hair back in a ponytail, it is more or less covered up. Unfortunately, I’ve been wearing my hair mostly down for a while now. So I guess I’ll have to get creative if I don’t want to reveal my Outer Bozo. Of course, it’s not a big deal either way. I mean, yeah, I’d rather not have anyone see my Clown Spot, but if they do … so? I’m certainly not prepared to take myself so seriously that I start wearing a hat or miss class over a bad hair week or two.

The bottom line is this: it’s temporary, it’s a freakish mistake (and only a small spot at that), and I refuse to lose sleep, have a tizzy, or hide because of it. In a week or two, four at the outside, it will all be water under the bridge and order will be restored in the universe. Until then, Mrs. McDonald says pass the fries.

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