Life of the Lintee Bean

Geeze, I sound rather obsessive about my hair, given this is my second (or is it THIRD) post about my hair!

Nothing could be further from the truth.  I really don’t care about my hair, as is obvious if you’ve seen me.  Even if something goes horribly wrong with my hair, I rarely worry about it.  Hair eventually grows back/out.    No problem.  I can look hideous for a while, doesn’t bother me.  I don’t have to look at myself.

I do go through periods where I want a change, though, and hair’s pretty easy to change – much easier than, say, my face, or body, or home, or life.

So, as I noted before, I’m growing my hair out a bit.  I’m in that “waiting” or “transitional” mode.  So, there’s no change… definitely not the satisfaction from growing hair out as in drastically suddenly cutting it much shorter.  While I’m waiting, I decided maybe I’d *color* my hair.  I’ve colored it in the past.  I was a redhead for almost a decade – varying shades of red, in fact.  Bright red.  Auburn.  Copper.

My friend Heather worked in a salon and attempted to put the fear of dye into me.  She told me horror stories of the many awful home-dye jobs she’d seen.  I’ll admit, she made me nervous.  In fact, I started looking at other womens’ hair more carefully, and noting different color roots or odd streaks – and thinking perhaps those weren’t intentional.

First time back in the hair color aisle, I decided to pick up a semi-permanent in “Amber Shimmer”.  Not drastically different from my natural color.  I was pretty excited, nonetheless, as I donned my old robe and went to work.  The end result was a disappointment.  In fact, I took before and after pictures – and had trouble telling which was which.  I didn’t want drastic, but coloring my hair the same color really accomplishes nothing at all.

Next time out, I attempted to be more daring – I picked up a “Downtown Brown”.  I carried it around for a week or two, to build up the anticipation.  Again, Heather stepped in to the rescue noting it said “Hi-Lift” and she STRONGLY discouraged me from attempting it at home. 

So, off I go again.  I exchanged the “downtown brown” for “crystal brown” (which didn’t say anything about heavy lifting or hi lifting or any other kind of lifting).  Again, I donned the old robe and got to work.  Again, the result was anticlimatic – no one, including me, could tell I colored my hair. 

Well, today I ventured into the hair color aisle once again.  After much deliberation, I picked up another box (hey!  on sale!).  I don’t know that I’ll tell Heather the shade name or number.  I probably won’t attempt to actually USE it until after my next hair appointment – so if it’s a horrible failure there’s time to fix it or shave it or leave the country before my stylist sees it.   So, I plan on setting it on a shelf at home and considering it for the next three weeks.  Let the anticipation build.