So Not What I Wanted

Yesterday I was feeling a little bored and a little fed up with my hair color. It's a dangerous feeling. So, while I was picking up laundry detergent at the local discount superstore, I decided to buy me a little hair color. I have not colored my own hair in ten years. Ten years. I also, after this move to this mountain paradise, no longer have the budget that allows me to spend $100 on a haircut and enjoy the color expertise of a true artist and professional. Ten years. No money. Boredom.

The particular hair kit that I bought promised neutral brown and neutral/cool highlights. Highlights. I can do highlights. I have a master of fine arts. I have watched professional hair stylists do it for years. How hard can it be? I am an idiot. Obviously my idea of neutral and cool are quite different than L'Oreal's. The base color is a nice brown. Not too cool, not too red. I can live with it. The highlights are orange. Orange is not a cool color. Orange is orange. Orange is brassy. Orange is not for me.

Big Daddy, to his credit, said he liked it. Big Daddy said I was beautiful. Big Daddy is a liar.

I broke down and called the salon. They chuckled at my misfortune. In a nice conspiratory way they chuckled. I am pathetic. My new stylist (who is very busy) cannot see me until Monday afternoon. Monday. Afternoon.

I am doomed.