So every now and then I like to get daring and cheap....and heaven forbid spontaneous! My short butch hair is the result of these lastest endevours, and even then my spontaneity took 6 months to kick in. Nonetheless with these elements in mind and prepping for a Saturday night fling to the city, I decided once again to mimic Rihanna's sassy tresses! Though not wanting to spend a weeks worth of "hard work/sleeping in" on a coloring procedure that was easy enough to accomplish from a $20 box, I opted for the next best gimmick....Paul Mitchell phase 2. For those not lucky enough to witness such a bargain buster, bust being the operative word- and in this case no reference to mine, Phase 2 is strictly reserved for completed cosmetology students logging their final hours of service.
So how challenging could it seriously be to transform brown to black and touch up a blonde highlight? Well after 5 hours of extreme torture and a cat fight, I'm pretty sure I in no way resembled the priceless look of Rihanna but more like a $54 imposter. And this is how it went down....
I was definately relieved my hairdresser Meg* was cute and had good hair. It's all important that your stylist fits the part, their head is like a secret magic eight ball you can look into and decifer the outcome. If they look good, you'll look good. But as we all know magic eight balls are wrong from time to time, though I'm still crossing my fingers to marry Micah Fielder. Unfortunately my fortune at the end read..."OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD".
I certainly didn't need a magic eight ball to see all the warning signs from Meg! Meg has a problem with bleach, Meg and bleach don't mix, Meg obviously missed the lecture on bleach, nor did she read the chapter! But apparently Bre and bleach mix, we are tight, now this doesn't suprise me being that I have made my debut as a blonde before. Nonetheless, I ended up with bleach first off on my phone, whatever I need a new one anyways, it then proceeded to fall upon my magazine blocking cosmo's 6 ways to train your boyfriend article! That's it I became annoyed and even more so after I discovered easter egg like speckles all over the arms of my once teal shirt. I then began a series of deep breaths mastering/controlling my anger management until I felt a burning pain upon my chunky cheek, no not from the chair but from the bleach that had fallen on my face! I quickly called Shann to side track my revengeful mentality but all she proceeded to hear from me was, "AHHHHHHH YOU GOT BLEACH IN MY EYE!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAH!" followed by a high five from the hardwood as my phone smashed to the floor. I wailed in pain like I had been shot....in the eye with bleach! I was momentarily blind and panick striken as I tried to figure out which pair of Dior sunglasses I was going to wear for the rest of my life to cover my glass eye!
After flushing my eye out with a gallon or two of water, it was safe to say I wouldn't be coordinating a white cane with any of my outfits any time soon. I then proceeded to envision myself in England as I heard all the fancy explicitives from my hair dressers mouth. My favorite was "I f***ed up!" Yes, yes you did. The night couldn't end any better as I began a seriously heated debate with a 40 year old woman with blue eyeshadow. She tried to charge me extra for the additional toner that was used because of the additional time added on to the bleach when it proceeded to get into my eye and also for the extra chemical shine she added to my hair, without my knowledge nor consent! The matter was finally resolved when I proceeded to yell that I would not be returning anytime soon or ever to see her blue eyeshadow for an extra 40 bones!
Though I must say Meg gets points for being truely creative by covering up my blood shot bleached eye with my bangs. Those points were soon nixed when I realized I wouldn't be staring into anyones eyes that night! And she will foot the bill for my glass eye and new Dior sunglasses, despite her little waver form and blue eyeshadowed gate keeper!
