Dye Jobs or Die Jobs: When your hairdresser blows it – Follow-up

Tessa: Several months ago I wrote a post about my bad hair dye job. This happened when I brought in a beautiful picture of this woman with sandy brown hair with tasteful highlights that I thought would suit me perfectly and also bring me closer to my natural colour.

What happened, of course, is a completely different story. My hairdresser, let’s call her Cindy, pooh poohed the picture and said something like “You have to keep in mind complexion. That will be too dark for you.” She then proceeded to dye my quite blonde (also dyed) hair, chocolate brown.  As some of you might recall, this is when shock, horror, tears and more tears ensued, with promises from my husband that it looked “ok”. “OK.” Ok is what you say when there is nothing else to say. OK is what you say when your wife threatens to shave her entire head and start again. Ok is the new ugly. That’s what ok is. But nevermind. I was in a pickle because my previous hairdresser, let’s call her Marcie, had gone to the other extreme previous to this nightmare situation and dyed my hair white blonde. Also, not good. This time it didn’t even warrant an “It’s okay.” This time it warranted utter, dead, and deafening silence.

So I toiled with my shocking blonde head for months until I decided to ‘dye’ my hair back to it’s natural colour which does not happen to be chocolate brown.

In the first instant of my fury, shock and horror I wanted to shave my head or have her add lighter highlights. But at this point my head was starting to look like a toxic waste site, 3 Mile Island, Chernobyl. Whatever you want to call it. So, in the interests of saving my hair from another march down the aisle, a bad aisle, I declined and decided to live with the darkness. Oh and the frizziness because if you fry your hair with enough dye it makes you look like you live with your finger in an electrical socket. But nevermind.

I decided to leave it. Interestingly, over the past few months the chocolate seems to have disappeared leaving me with yet another colour altogether. Let’s call it taupe.

My lesson is that from here on in I’m going au naturel. No dye, no highlights, no chocolate, no nothing. I’m going to restore my hair to its former lustrous mousey colour, no wait,  let’s call it rich caramel with a touch of flambe wine , and call it a day.

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