Bad Hair Experience

The last time I went to Elizabeth, my hair person, she cut and dyed my hair back to brown from the blonde that it had been for two months. Michael didn’t like my hair blonde; the fact that he kept calling it “yellow” made that point pretty clear. So, I went back to brown, but there were still a few light streaks. I told Elizabeth that I would be dying it myself the next time, and she said “make sure you don’t wait too long”. I wondered at the time what the warning meant, and exactly how long “too long” was, but I didn’t question her vagueness at the time. I wish I had.

Over the ensuing weeks the thought went through my mind how long too long was, but I don’t like the messiness of dying my hair, and even though I was mildly curious about her warning, I didn’t ask, and didn’t dye my hair.

On Friday past, I decided it was time. Since I’ve done this a few times now, I know how to do it and didn’t feel any obligation to re-read the instructions, except to remind myself of the time needed to complete the task. Unfortunately, I did forget one key part of the instructions, which was to dry my hair before applying the dye. Dye bottle in hand, I immediately started applying the dye to wet hair. Medium brown, the box stated. When my hair started going black almost instantly, I remembered that I had missed a step. That, along with the fact that the dye was running down the sides of my face, sent me scrambling for the instructions, and then for the phone to dial 1-800-ISCREWEDUPAGAIN.

Just as I had hoped, there was an 800 number on the instructions for such calameties. I dialed the number, hands shaking so badly I had to dial twice before I got it right. Couple shaking hands with poor eyesight and knowing I was getting dye all over the phone too. When they say permanent, they were not joking.

Ring, ring, ring.

Recorded Voice of someone that was clearly not having a hair emergency. “Welcome to the Clairol Hotline. Please listen carefully before selecting one of the three following options”

Me: I take a deep breath. Begging a recorded voice will not help me.

Non-Hair Emergency person: “Press “ONE” if you are a professional hair stylist”

Me: I consider pressing one. After all, who do I know that gets more hair comments (most not complimentary), owns more hair product, or changes their hair color more often then me? I wait for the next option.

Relaxed Clairol person, clearly with no hair issues: “Press TWO or say TWO if you are a consumer and would like to continue in English” Gratefully I say TWO quite loudly. Let there be no mistake on this, I think.

French speaking and relaxed Clairol person “…(I dunno what she said but I cannot believe my bad luck, and I can feel the dye running down my cheeks. The face ones.

Me: I push a few more buttons, desperately. The French continues. I hang up. I call back, I’m reminded of the movie The Pink Panther where Steve Martin is trying to correct his heavy French accent with the help of a speech coach. Perhaps how I say “Two” in English should like “Trois”. That would explain a lot.

So, yes, I call back. This time when I’m prompted, I, foolishly, say TWO a little louder. Guess what happened? Indeed, I was reconnected with the French speaking and extremely relaxed sounding Clairol person that I could not understand because of my lack. I am totally to blame. At this point, I’m approaching desperation.

I call back a third time. It’s a weekday during business hours so I feel safe in believing that I will be connected, should I press the right button combination, with a real live person who can help me.

Ring, ring, ring….This time I waste no time saying anything, I press TWO. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…you know.

To my delight, upon pressing the number TWO the phone rings again as if I’m to be connected with a live body that can hear the panic in my voice and help me…the dye is now running down my neck. Also, I had a look at my ears before I went to the phone – they’re both black. Oh my.

To my horror on comes another recording. A relaxed voice with a strong southern accent comes on: “Our offices are closed today due to extreme weather conditions. If this is a medical emergency please call 1-513-xxx-xxxx.”

Needless to say, I’m shocked. I hang up slowly. Feeling fearful, I go to the shower and rinse the dye out of my hair. I scrub soap on my face, but I already know that won’t work. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Upstairs I remove the towel and do damage control. Black hair, brown in a few spots, but mostly black. Think Mrs. Adams Family black. My ears are black, I have black residue outlining the entire hairline, roughly an inch the whole way around, and some streaks down the cheeks. Not good. After dying my hair and trying to scrub the dye off my face, I try to cover it with makeup. I wonder how much I would have to use to cover this mess. I put on a lot; it’s still visible. I make a decision then not to leave the house for a few days, or I get the stains off, whichever comes first.

Then I remember the handy dandy stain remover book I bought for five bucks. I bet that will tell me how to get dye removed from skin. I’m ready to use Vim at this point…I have nothing to lose.

Unfortunately the book does not mention removing dye from the skin and only mentioned hair dye briefly. Paraphrased, it said that if a person gets hair dye on anything, either get used to it or throw it away. Hmmmm…this is not what I want to hear. Sigh…I flip through a few pages in a desolate way, hoping that some inspiration will appear….then, Voila!!! I see the answer. Hairspray.

Granted the book was talking about using hairspray on something else, but I thought what the heck…I’ll try that before the Vim. I sprayed some on a towel and rubbed at my left ear…the stain started to lift. I had three different types right in front of me, so I tried all three. The least expensive worked the best, but the good news, and I’m sure you share my relief, is that the hairspray removed all of the dye stains and I was able to leave the house and not have to turn into a recluse.

I was mentioning this to Michael later that day…I asked him had he heard about any extreme weather conditions in William of the Mountain country and then I shared with him my suspicion that there was a plot out there to keep me from getting the help I needed from my hair emergency. He said “yes, Clairol has a plot for all the stupid people that won’t read the instructions….they’re all laughing at you right now.” Whatever. I’m just really grateful I don’t have green hair. And Elizabeth, can you not be so vague next time?

Thought for today: Don’t let a little wind keep you from going to work…
Helen