Well, that was a big hairy deal.

Allow me to explain to you how my day went. 

I started off my day with a 10 o'clock appointment for a hair trim with my stylist whom I've followed for twelve years to various salons and a few stints of working out of her home. I've lost her and found her a few different times when she has changed locations and phone numbers over the years. 

I've had a couple of trims since my last colour job so there really wasn't much colour left in my hair. And by 'not much colour' I mean not much colour of any kind, as my natural hair also has not much colour left to it. 

Recent photo showing that yes, it needed cut and yes, it has no colour left. 

I told her this trim would probably remove the last of the colour but I was going to try to go au naturale and see how I liked it. And added I'd probably last about two weeks before I was back for a colour appointment.

Without actually saying that my natural grey hair is just sort of a blah colour, not lovely lustrous silver, she instead offered that maybe adding a few strands of black would help make my grey "pop."

"Black??!" I looked doubtful into her eyes. Even though I have always completely trusted her colour judgement, often just sitting in her chair and saying, "Do something dramatic."

"Not chunks of black or anything. Just a few really subtle strands. Here I'll show a couple of photos."

And she reached for her phone so show me some pictures similar to this: 

I was still a bit doubtful but threw myself at her mercy.

I caught  glimpse of myself in the mirror as she was removing the foils at the sink.

"It's awfully dark. I'm kinda freaking out here."

"Oh no. It's gonna be good," she replies, easing my fears a bit. 

I remained calm while she put toner in and did an initial cut and 'texturized' it with her thinning shears. 

"What do you think?" she asked. 

Oh.My.Freak!! 

What do I think? I'm freaking out inside but I continue to remain calm. 

The sides and back of my head were my natural grey, but there was no natural hair colour at all left on the top. It was patches of black, and I mean black-black, and blonde-y silver colour that was arranged in stripes akin to a zebra.  

As I casually as I possibly can, I point out that there is a large 3-inch chunk of black right in the front on the left side of my bangs that was a bit too much for me and the sides were really 'stripey.' 

"Ok, I'll reduce this front patch," she says as she swoops in with the thinning shears that are still in her hand, and just starts attacking that one patch until it's half gone.  

Realizing that I am going to have a bald spot in about two more snips if she doesn't stop, I say, "I'm really freaking out here!" 

"OK, I think I'll tone it down for you a bit." And she heads off to mix up more colour.  

I should have taken a photo at that point but I really just sat in disbelief that this woman whom I've trusted so much over the years had just messed up this colour so bad and then attacked a random spot in my hair. It was so bizarre. 

I'm not a great judge of these things, but I'm fairly certain she was not drunk or stoned out of her mind. But I was pretty baffled. 

Anyway, I sat through another round of colour and foils and toner. In the end, the silver had disappeared and turned a brassy-blonde colour and the black was reduced to more of a dark chocolate. And my 20-30 minute quick trim I'd gone in for turned into a 2 1/2 hour trauma and I was late for my lunch date with a friend.  

She assured me as I left that it had a lot to do with the fluorescent lighting in the salon and if I used my purple shampoo the first time I wash it the brassy colour would be gone and the silver would brighten right up. 

And I bravely sat in public and enjoyed a lovely lunch with my striped hair looking sort of like a brindle coloured dog. 

And as soon as I got home I jumped in the shower. Lathered up with a ridiculous amount of Bust Your Brass shampoo. And left it in my hair for about 20 minutes while I just stood in a stream of hot water and cried.

I don't think I cried for my hair. It's only hair. And mine grows really fast. But I was just spent. It's been a rough couple of weeks with Albert's birthday, the anniversary of his death coming up, I attended a funeral on Monday, have another one on Saturday, I hate the time change back to standard time and the dark evenings, the coming of winter always depresses me, and I haven't been sleeping well again lately.

I managed to get my hair rinsed and get out of the shower before I ran out of hot water.

Alas, the purple shampoo did not produce a miracle.  

I couldn't adequately capture the striped sides while taking a selfie. But the top speaks for itself. 

All the kids were over for supper and within moments of them leaving I was off to the drugstore for a 6-dollar box of hair bleach and a 6-dollar box of Loreal "medium golden blonde."

The hair bleach instructions said to apply to hair 3 cm from scalp and leave on for 30 minutes before adding more to the roots, but avoiding getting on scalp, and leave on for another 30 minutes. 

Leave 3cm from scalp? What are you supposed to do if your hair is only 3 cm long?? And I since I didn't have any 'roots' because the colour was only 6 hours old, I envisioned created even more stripe affects by not stripping all the colour out. 

I applied it all over.

By 20 minutes in, my scalp was burning. This was, after all, the third application of chemicals in just a few hours.  

I checked in the mirror at 30 minutes and the blond parts were looking almost transparent white, and I  started to panic and decided not to leave it on for the second 30 minutes that were recommended. 

And I jumped into the shower once again.

The lighter areas definitely lightened up but the dark was still pretty dark. So the stripes were even more noticeable now.

Thank God I hadn't actually thrown out the 2nd half of the bottle of hair bleach.

I slathered my hair once again and waited for another 30 minutes before jumping into the shower yet again.

By the end of the second session my scalp was on fire. 

Finally got the darkness removed. 

After the second session with the bleach, the colour was actually ok enough that I could have left it as is. It had some nice variety of tones to it without looking like stripes anymore. 

Yes, I could have left it... had I actually paid attention to how I applied the bleach.   Since the sides and back of my hair were still my natural grey I didn't put the bleach to it. And it was very evident that I paid no attention to getting it even.  

So I bust out the box of medium golden blonde and lather up with chemicals for the fifth time. This time making sure even my grey is covered. 

By the time the 25-minute dye session is over my scalp is akin to what I imagine it would be like to have someone squeeze jalapeño juice into your eye. 

And I jump in for my fifth shower of the day.  

And by the time all is said and done it's past midnight. But I can't resist the urge to blog while it's fresh in my mind.

I look like a 4-year-old who has snipped off their own bangs and my hair feels like straw.

I'm heading to bed hoping I don't wake to find all my hair laying in a neat pile on my pillow entangled in my CPAP straps.