Have you ever noticed that sometimes the easiest lessons to learn can also be the simplest to forget?
You mess up.
Pick yourself up and dust yourself off.
Make the same mistake over and over.
Why do we do that?
Could it be because we are so caught up in what we want that we completely ignore what’s best for us?
Sometimes it’s as simple as not being happy with what we already have that spurs on the changes.
I’m bad for that.
Broken finger nails send me running to the spa for full manicure complete with fresh gel polish.
Two weeks later my nails are soft meaning they tear easily when I try to button my jeans or pull the T-shirt over my daughters head.
The polish is chipping and looks ugly leaving me unhappy.
I’m even worse when it comes to my hair.
The only person who knows my real hair color is God and he isn’t telling.
My hair has been almost every color imaginable. From a soft black, fire cracker red, strawberry blond and bleach blond.
When I was in junior high I felt my mousey brown natural hair (like that of my daughter’s hair which I LOVE) was well…flat.
So I did what any teenager in my unhappy shoes would do.
I used ups all of my babysitting money and purchased a box of “blondisma”.
With the help of my best friend we stripped all my natural color out in under 20 min.
For 3 years I cycled between “straw blond” and “straw blond with roots”.
It was horrible.
We moved the summer of grade 9 I seized the chance to start fresh and start over.
The blond had to go.
When I pulled my hair into a pony tail all the hair at the front was a beautiful mousey brown and the back was straw blond.
I didn’t mind much.
I knew that once it was long enough I could cut out the blond and no one would be the wiser.
It’s only hair right.
So you would think growing it out wouldn’t be that traumatic but it was.
Unfortunately teenage boys are horribly cruel.
Even now their taunts ring in my ears and that was 20 years ago.
A quick trip to the salon and my hair experienced more colors.
First my hair turned a funny shade of broccoli green then a beautiful salt and pepper grey.
Then she got it to a beautiful auburn brown that washed out two weeks later.
You would think after such an experience as that I would have learned my lessons.
Nope! Not me!
Fast forward to last December.
Arms with yet another of box color I surprised my husband with a head of soft black hair.
Truth be told I loved it.
Seriously loved the color until it started to fade and come out.
Are you sensing a pattern yet?
Yep, you guessed it.
I decided I need a change.
So I picked up a box of red hair color and recruited my oldest to the task at hand.
Something she had never done before and something I had no business doing.
How did I forget a simple lesson I learned 20 years ago?!?
The red color went on really well.
A little too well because I ended up with “hot roots” and blackish red ends.
Awesome…Now I look like a skunk!
But not the desired effect I was aiming for.
Simple lesson yet I ignored the voice on the back of my head warning me that this was not going to turn out well.
Simple fix though.
My new hairdresser Phoebe did a “Demi root touch up” so now the bottom of my hair matches the top and when it washes out it will be the same color.
Here’s what it looked like:
Phoebe working her hair magic…
The lesson: listen to that inner voice. You know yourself better than anyone else. Trust yourself! Don’t meddle with things best left to professionals. Box hair color is just an accident waiting to happen.