Curse You Miss Clairol

The box said "Nice and Easy" but that was just an empty promise.  All those boxes boasted thick, luscious looking, well-colored hair.  They taunted me from the hair care aisle and I fell into the trap of thinking "Yes, I want to look like I have "striking highlights" and off to the check out lane I went.

In college we colored our hair all the time, however we were too drunk/tired/stressed to notice that we looked like hell.  I haven't colored my own hair in eons, but I figured if I can dry it, curl it and braid it why not color it?  The proof was staring at me in the mirror about 20 minutes later.

The orange shade looked particularly lovely against the pale blue backdrop of my bathroom wall.  I went from room to room checking my hair out in different lights, mirrors and various outfits.  I definitely did not have "striking highlights." I was Crayola Orange (kind of a mix between Mango Tango and Neon Carrot with bits of my yucky brown caught in between.)

$11.98 for the box, plus $36 to fix it professionally (and add the $9.99 for the bottle of Relax Riesling) and this was no bargain.

From now on only my stylist and I will know what color I truly am.