First and foremost, my soul’s deepest suppressed dream is now a reality…for at least another week.
I’ve debated about pastel hair for over a year, which is pathetic considering I do hair. I know I can change the color the next day, but as a blonde who once turned a room into a snow globe after a blow dry, you understand my concern about keeping hair attached to my head.
Anyway, I love it.
(This is when the saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” comes to mind.)
Brian/the voice of reason left Saturday night with his friends. I had some friends come over to bring a special delivery of pink dye…for animals. The girls helped dye my parents’ dog while they were out of town. My mom has never been all that encouraging of my cotton candy hair, and for some reason, that instilled in me a deep desire to boost her pink appreciation by dipping her dog in some doggy dye.
Did you know dying a dog’s fur in a bathtub is a mess? Yes, you did, because you have common sense.
The bathtub imprisoned dog failed to understand beauty takes time, and kept shaking her fur while she was processing. The tile, the shower curtain, the tub, the toilet, the walls, the poor girl rinsing the dog…PINK.
That concludes Bad Decision 1: Not clean up the bathroom right away. I’m going to be repainting my walls soon, because I can’t get Barbie pink splatters off the paint. Whoops. Maybe Brian won’t notice.
I know I didn’t notice the walls at the time, because I was busy coloring my friend Aly’s hair pastel blue.
Let me introduce Bad Decision 2: Coloring hair in a bathroom at 11PM, with limited necessities. We didn’t have gloves, but Ziploc bags seemed similar enough.
Sure, we were a little reckless with color, because it’s our own hair instead of a client AND we were being F-U-N. A lack of ventilation in a small bathroom may have contributed, but I like to think it’s because we are so, so wild. I bet Aly even California-rolled through a couple stop signs on the way over.
We were a little over eager to get her hair done right then and there, so we skipped a major process that we both acknowledged, but ehhh. Maybe that’s why her color didn’t turn out blue. Does this color even have a name?
Because we were dying cracking up, we didn’t rinse out my hair that I was “freshening up.” (Do you feel another bad decision coming on?) After the girls left and the pink dog was dry, I washed mine to find it a neon maroon color instead of the light pastel pink it had previously been. I looked like Avril Lavigne’s gothic sister.
Unfortunately, this color wasn’t documented because I was busy washing my hair 5x with dish soap from 12:30-1AM. Oh, if you get dish soap in your eyes multiple times, your eyes will turn pink, too.
Bad Decision 3: Just. I know.
Needless to say, the early beginning of our Easter morning was spent running into our salon with bleach so we wouldn’t look like Easter colored crack heads at church.
Update: Aly is a beautiful purple…head? Purple-ette? Purple?
The goth rocker has been taken out of my pink, so it’s back to it’s unicorn, My Little Pony glory.
Maybe I’ll regret this color in a couple years, but I’m going to take a million selfies while it lasts so in 2025, Gus can remember when Mom (thought she) was cool.