The Motley News

A Series of Unfortunate Events

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So I told you all that I was going to post about hair color soon. Well I tried it and it was an epic fail! The evening started off hopeful, as I had just found a new beauty emporium in my neighborhood. It was a wall to wall hair experience. Synthetic hair pelts were hanging from the walls and ceiling like a French Canadian trapping cabin. It was enough to make me a little uncomfortable, Noah was a taking it all in stride though. So I bought some things:

-Canned (light blonde) Jerome Russell Spray
-Bottle (ruby red) VIA Natural semi-perm dye
-latex gloves
-30 pack of conditioning caps
-black soap

I was super excited to get home and get to work. I shampooed dried and applied half of the ruby red bottle to my bangs. Because I already had it in my head that I would have brilliant red bangs that I was could roll up or press. I should have known better once I started. I suddenly occurred to me, could my hair be too black? I certainly was. I left the creme on for about thirty minutes, ten more than recommended and then rinsed out. I didn’t get so much as a burgundy hue. My bangs were still black. Sigh.

I was so disappointed that it didn’t work that I wanted to try something else equally drastic. I plugged up my flatiron. It was hiding under the bathroom sink, not in use for several months (close to 6). I went to town and hated every minute of it. I didn’t know why I was straightening but I couldn’t stop myself.

I came out of the bathroom looking foreign, and my hair was now dry and smelled cooked. Noah said I would look just fine. But that wasn’t the point! I was this close to falling back into the ironing trap. For me, it’s an addiction that requires me to straighten once or twice a day, almost compulsively. I had gone six months without doing it and felt free. Last night was like reliving an old nightmare.

Noah told me not fool with my hair anymore for the rest of the evening. And so I didn’t. I went to bed with straight hair even though it made me unhappy. I tossed and turned in bed, just knowing the following morning I would wake up and plug that flatiron up and start all over again.

I almost did.

In the bathroom, I stood looking at my limp, dry hair and cursed it’s fraudulence. It had no character. It didn’t feel like me at all. It felt like the old Charish that was willing to mold herself to suit others. I thought I was through with that Charish. But I reached to plug in my flatiron anyway. My hands shook as I pushed the temperature up. “No,” I actually had to tell myself aloud. “Not gonna do it.”
I unplugged the tool and jumped in the shower instead. I co-washed as long as I could and returned to my “natural self.”

You wouldn’t think such an internal struggle is needed to get ready in the morning. And to tell you the truth, it was all born of disappointment about my hair dye experimentation gone wrong. When I talked to Noah about it, he reasoned that I’m the kind of person that gets her hopes up about almost everything. The let down of things not working hits me hard. Unfortunately, instead of taking a break, I do other rash things. Sigh.

So I’m going to leave my hair alone for a few days and just stick to fro. That’s mighty hard to fuck up. I will show you some pics of my frohawk that came out okay. The colored hair sprays are not bad to work with. So far I’ve only used the purple. And yesterday I did buy a blonde. Next time I’ll just save the stress for someone else and buy a can of Ruby Red spray!

Author: charishreid

Writer and Educator.

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