Heather's Adventures in Dunderland

So. I dyed my hair red.

Not the whole Oh!-you-have-the-prettiest-red-hair-like-Ariel red. More like, I'm-so-tired-of-crappy-normal-colored-hair-so-I'm-going-to-go-crazy red.

 I'm in a rut, folks. I NEEDED change. My sister (who you will NEVER see pictures of on here because my heiny and her foot never want to meet) gave me some hair dye a few months ago. It's been sitting on my bathroom sink since then... until Saturday.

I was watching a movie and I saw this girl who was wild, daring, and most definitely not in a "mom rut." She had the red hair that I have been longing for for 2 years now. I typically stay in the dark reds or dark brown when I dye my hair. It's safe, right?

"Well," I thought, ''I'm a daring person. I kick ass. I can get my husband to look at me like the men in the movie looked at her.'' At least that's what I told myself while I was debating whether or not to go for it.

''I'm a rebel.''

I can't lie, my stomach was in knots when I went to the bathroom to get the bottle. But, with each step towards the bathroom I kept chanting my mantra to myself. "You is daring, You is kick-ass, You is REBEL." (Yes, that's a The Help reference. Good movie. Go watch it.)

My sister-in-law, Bekka, had agreed to do the dying. She shook the bottle and as the bottle came closer, the tighter my legs wrapped around the base of the chair so I wouldn't leave. I thought, "There's time! I don't feel the dye in there yet! I can still be an unnoticed boring little person like always! That's comfortable!" Then I repeated my mantra to myself, and I felt the first glob of dye hit my hair. This was it. I'm going to be AWESOME!

Hair dye glopped all over the counter, the floor, my face. I knew then, this was a sign from the hair gods- this was a mistake.

Too late, idiot!

 I waited the 25 minutes and went to wash my hair out. My shower curtain, tile, bath poufs, and tub all turned hot pink.

 Oh. My. God.

 I rinsed for 20 minutes and my hair was STILL dripping pink. I got out, squeezed what water dye was still in there and went to dry my hair. I hadn't looked in the mirror yet. I should have left it that way. I knew it was a disaster the second I pulled the now hot-pink towel off my head. I teared up for a second and thought, "I've never seen a rebel look like this." As I started drying it to see how bad it really was, I started laughing to myself.


Here's the finished product, folks.

Lovely, big, red spots on my scalp

Fortunately, Josh was nice enough to pick me up some black dye on the way home. I've wanted to dye my hair back to black for awhile now too, so it worked out.

Tada! Back in Black

Rebel

Much better...

Boy, did I learn my lesson. Red is NOT my color and I can be kick-ass without dying my hair.

Rock on, folks. Rock on.


Laters,
 Heather