when it should look like...
It's a long story:
I read up about the toxicity of red dyes and decided to end the cycle of hair funk. After 4 years. Hardly anyone knows me as a non-red-head.
Against my better judgment, I went to my mom's hairdresser.
I should have turned and ran when she said, "You'll like him, katie. He has holes in his jeans!"
Well, dudebro didn't listen to one single word I said.
Without a word he sat me down and put these nasty blond highlights in my head. Let me clarify: bleach blond zebra stripes on top of a red base. The kind that scream "WHERE'S THE MALL!?"
After breaking down in tears in front of him, he slathered a higher concentrate of bleach all over my head. The suburban moms made passive aggressive remarks to me for questioning the brilliance of such a hip man.
After I asked him to leave my hair the same length, he started snipping away. "I'm just shaping things up," he said. "I'm giving you the illuuuuuuusion of long hair".
Now, it's not so bad...
But the point was to go to my natural hue.
I never wanted to do this again, but now I'm forced to start a whole new cycle.
There were plenty of things I could have done instead. In the long run, now I've probably poisoned my brain far more than I ever did before.
Not to mention that my hair is so brittle that I've been instructed to never touch it again.
This is why I don't do salons. They're so "artistic" that it kills their pride when someone knows what they want. If he had told me that he was going to make me look like a Bratz doll, I wouldn't have had to have my hair done twice in 5 hours.
I'm farther away from where I planned to be. But it's fine.
I'm just a little bummed about being in and of a world obsessed with illusion.
I'll say this: waking up this morning was SHOCKING!