Only My Hairdresser Knows For Sure

I am engaged in pitched battle with my hair at all times. It's a fair fight, with thrilling reversals of fortune and momentary victories to be savored. I should know by now that I must be prepared for anything, but lately my hair has been cooperative, lulling me into complacency.

Until Saturday.

One of my friends had recommended a new home highlighting kit, which she promised was really easy to use and gave great results. I was pleased at the thought that I didn't need to spend $100 at the salon, so I figured I would give it a whirl.

The idea is that you mix up the color and apply it using a special two-pronged plastic applicator. Easy! Unless you have long, curly hair, in which case two evenly-spaced lines begin at your head and stop around ear level when the product is all used up. Like a fool, I thought "no big", because my roots were more the problem anyway. As I flipped my hair around to cover all areas, I began to lose track of where I had previously painted on the solution. I kept at it until I used up the bottle, then went to the kitchen to smoke cigs and do the crossword while the color took.

After about thirty minutes, I wandered back into the bathroom and gasped out loud. The top three inches of my hair were orange, while the rest was still light brown. I tried not to panic, and jumped in the shower to rinse it out. I was clinging to the hope that the color looked different before it was washed out. I got out. Still orange. Maybe it looks different wet. I dried it. Orange.

I began to panic a little, realizing that my friend was coming to pick me up in three hours and I looked like I was wearing Loki on my head. I braided my mess and put on a Red Sox hat. I went to Safeway and got dark brown hair dye, on the theory that dark covers light. While I was standing in line, the 19 year old boy working the register wanted to chat about the Sox. I could barely focus. I thought about removing my hat to impress upon him the urgency of the situation.

Returning home, I applied the new dye to my head. Now I could spend the next thirty minutes pacing, smoking, and wondering whether my hair would fall out. Surely this level of chemical warfare would not go unnoticed by my hair.

Shockingly, the resulting "Cocoa Brown" color came out looking good. And my hair is still attached to my head. Now I wish I had taken a picture to serve as a cautionary tale, but at the time, I was too freaked.

$100 is a perfectly reasonable price for peace of mind.