I was born blond . Not a stark white blond, but blond nonetheless. As I grew older, it tuned to what my family ever so sweetly called Dirty Dishwater blond.
Have you ever looked at dirty dishwater? I mean really, who wants to have hair the color of dirty water? Not me. Thus the little box with an applicator filled with awful smelling stuff along with a little brown bottle to add to it and shake, and shake, and…well, you know, shake it a bunch more. (I was always afraid I wouldn’t shake it enough. Just a tad OCD.)
Anyway, I’ll try to shorten what could be a very long story. I colored my hair a beautiful sun kissed blond. When it was time to color again, I did it. No problem. Yeah right. I didn’t really bother to read the directions and just colored my whole head. Now I had two different colors of blond and it wasn’t in a cool way.
I’m sure you can guess what happened next...
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