Friday, September 21, 2012

It's my hair in a box.

I am a go-to-the-salon-get-my-hair-cut-and-colored-kind-of-girl.
That’s just the way it is.

I LOVE my stylist, Jeff.
He is cute. He makes me laugh.
He has a little 80's picture of Scott Baio at his station.
Jeff is awesome.

As I have gone part time at my day job (YAY!) there have been a few things I have been forced kicking and screaming to give up (BOO!) or...find a cheaper version of.

For example:

Manicures – My at home mani skills are now pretty damn impressive, if I do say so myself.

Foofy coffee drinks – I’ll gladly drink the drip in the break room.
  Well, I was more “glad” with my latte, but, whatever.

Lunch hour trips to Nordstrom/Sephora – Yeah, um, bye-bye.

But the one thing, ONE THING I said I would never let go of, no matter how rough things got, was my time with Jeff. Surely color from a box couldn’t be as good. And surely I would wreck it somehow, like in ninth grade when my girlfriends and I put henna in our hair and I ended up looking like a deranged clown.

I had let my cut and color appointment with Jeff pass me by, I cancelled it due to lack of funds. I didn’t want to be stupid and put it on my credit card; I was going to wait until I could afford it. That is until I went and visited my mom the other night.

I was sitting on her front porch and she was standing above me.

“LORI, what is that in your hair?”

From her tone of voice I thought I had a tarantula, or seriously, something worse on top of my head.

“Is that gray? I HAD NO IDEA you were that gray!”

I couldn’t wait one minute more.
I needed a fix now. Fast.
Based on mom’s reaction, like, yesterday.

I strolled the hair color aisle at Fred Meyer like a kid in a candy store for the first time. So much to choose from, jeez. I was drawn to Feria, by L’Oreal because of the hip/Beyoncé factor. But right next door to it lived the Excellence Creme, with a big old gold shiny box slapped on the front claiming “SUPERIOR GRAY COVERAGE.”

Excellence Creme was clearly just what the doctor ordered.

Party time. Excellence.

So last rockin’ Saturday night, instead of my glass of wine with Jeff, I had my bottle of beer at home as I set out to color my hair.

It was easy! I felt like a little scientist, putting on my plastic gloves, mixing up my stinky chemicals, and slapping it on top of all that "sparkle".

Here is the result:

Look ma - no roots!

A little darker than the pretty lady sporting the "Dark Golden Brown" on the front of the box, but we're going into fall, right? Plus I had just come off of a Real Housewives of New Jersey marathon, so covering my roots made me feel close to my roots.

Co-workers and friends gave me the usual, “You got your hair done, it looks great!”

Why yes, yes I did get my hair done.
For six-dollars-and-ninety-nine cents.
With a two-dollar-off coupon.

I am seeing Jeff tomorrow for a haircut – there are certain things a girl just shouldn’t have to give up.

Because just like Beyoncé - I’m worth it.

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