No More Dye For Me!

I've always wanted red hair. And I've dyed it for the last 13 years, not counting while pregnant twice. And, with my HS reunion coming up (I'm completely Romy & Michelle about it too) I had to dye it. SO last weekend I popped open a couple bottles and poured it on. Now, I have super-thick hair so two bottles is not as much as it might sound, and it turned out to not be quite enough. After I finished and rinsed it out and it dried, I had missed spots. Last night I realized that, I can't go to my reunion with spotty color so I took a third bottle and dumped it on just the top, to cover the roots and the brownish spots. I've done this before and been fine. But not this time.

I rinsed it and dried it and . . . I look like someone painted the top of my head Crayola red! So today I had to go uptown in a ball cap and confess my idiocy to my hairdresser. So she re-dyed me. Then she darkened the length of it. Then she lightened the roots. And now I have perfectly even haircolor. Approximately the same shade as a brand new penny. Under orange lighting. Ugh. But it's even, and the Ronald McDonald-ness is gone.

I am choosing to read this as a sign from God. I am going to embrace my gray roots and age gracefully. Hair color is not meant for me. It was a good run, until the end, but no more for me. Mousy brown and gray may just be my fate, and I will have to accept it.