Strappin on my cheap-skates

So I've done two slightly odd and very "college" things today.  The first, was shopping.  Not that shopping is odd, but my shopping choice was.  After a stop at the bank to collect my weekly Benjamin (or 5 Jacksons, as it were), I headed to the Goodwill.  I've had a dilemma lately.  I need shirts that fit, and aren't falling apart because I've had them since high school.  On the other hand, I've committed to spending less money.  Focus on the debt.  Become a grown up.  I decided I wanted to spend very little money and get a lot for it.  I wanted to spend $20.  That felt reasonable.  Even at Target though, that's MAYBE one shirt.  I tend to avoid thrift stores since my post-teen years.  I feel weird about them, like I'm stealing from poor people, or like maybe I'm homeless.  But today I swallowed that last bit of pride.  I hit up the Goodwill and got 5 nice quality, attractive, great fitting, work appropriate tops for a grand total of $14.75.  I am officially in love.

The second thing is that I dyed my hair.  More though, I dyed my hair blonde.  Scratch that, I dyed my hair Ultra Light Ash Brown.  Scratch again, pretty sure I dyed my hair crazy.

Last time I dyed my hair, I picked a medium ash brown.  Ash is supposed to minimize redness, and redness is my biggest annoyance with hair dye.  Of course, as some of you so astutely pointed out, the last dye job came out, well, red.  Maybe auburn, okay, but definitely red-familied.

I chose today's color for a few reasons.  One, the Crack-addict version of Mrs. Robinson  on the box cover actually seemed to have (what I assume to be) my natural color.  Apparently, I have a Ultra Light Ash Brown hair.  I'll need to remember that, next time someone asks.  It should sound a lot better than saying "dunno".  Next, it was a color that proclaimed to be specifically FOR those of us with darker hair.  And while it specifically warned against using over hair that had been dyed anything darker than medium brown, I thought, well shucks, lucky thing my last dye job was a medium!  I figured this box was meant for me.  Thirdly, even though the last ash-dye was a miserable failure, I chalked it up to the brand. L'oreal certainly won't fail me.  Certainly.  And lastly, well, I just like the word ultra.  It sounds powerful.  It sounds electric and exciting.  Exactly what I think of when I think light ashy brown hair.

So I did it.  And the results are, well... I don't know.  I'm scared.  It looks ridiculous wet, like, strawberry blonde roots and nearly black the rest of the way down.  And I followed the instructions on the box!  I'm... pretty sure I followed the directions on the box! Start at the ends, do the roots for the last ten minutes, right?  Ah well, I'm hoping it'll look better dry, but I'm just too nervous to accomplish that.  Plus, we're watching The Postman Always Rings Twice, and it's a riot, so I'm not going anywhere.

If you think I'm terribly upset about this, then it seems you don't know me.  I consider a bottle of hair dye  an adventure.  The color never looks anything like the picture, and you could come out looking like a complete imbecile.  It's almost like some cross between a Choose Your Own Adventure novel and Russian roulette.  I guess this particular bottle may have been the loaded chamber.  Just the same, I bought a back up bottle.  If it's as bad as I suspect, it'll be nearly black again within a week or two.  Just the same, it would have been nice to go au'naturel again, if only for a little while.  Seems I may not have the patience for that.

Another reason I'm not concerned though, is that I've firmly decided to not ever go to a salon again.  Or at least a while.  It's been over 10 months since I paid for a haircut, and I'm shooting for at least 2 total years.  I'll dye my own hair, the same as I cut my own bangs, and suffer any consequences that follow.  I don't like going to salons.  I don't like paying $100 for a cut and color.  I have no idea how much to tip a hairdresser.  I don't even know why we tip a person who sets their own rates.  And to top it all off, I can't help but feel that they're constantly judging me.  Sometimes I even tip more than I think necessary (of course, what the heck do I know) just to make them like me.  Because here's the thing.  Every hairdresser I've ever met is amazingly cool, WHEREAS, I am a raging dork.  Somehow, it always feels like high school again.  And anyway, who really cares what your hair looks like?  Am I going to be socially shunned for having roots lighter than my tips?  Well by golly, it's a little too late for that, again, DORK.

Anyway, I'm back home for good now, and I've been marinating LOTS of thoughts, so stay tuned in for lots of chatter in the next couple weeks!

Hope you're all having a honest to box-picture kind of day!