For some time now (probably at least as far back as last summer of baldness), I’d wanted to color my hair purple. A little odd, because while it’s my favorite color, I don’t usually think it looks good on me. Recently, several peeps I know have made the leap and my yearning for a purple pate was growing stronger. I told myself I’d hold off until after the holidays, after our cruise. Then, last month, I saw a box of wash out purple at the grocery store. Oops – it fell into my cart. It sat under my sink for a bit, and finally, one afternoon, I donned the gloves, shook the bottle, and did it!
I couldn’t wait to see how The Girl reacted when she got home from school. But, she didn’t. React. We sat right next to each other on the couch, and nothing. Finally, I opened the shade and tilted my head back. Finally, she asked me, “Why does your hair look purple?” I said, “Because it is purple.” “Oh,” she replied, and went back to watching TV. That was it. Hubs came home and we went out to dinner. He looked right at me the whole time, and never noticed. I realize it was more of a cast that needed the light to show up well, but you’d think he’d notice something a little different. Nope.
The box said that the color would last through 2-3 washes, but it washed out completely after one shampoo the next day. In passing, I mentioned to Hubs that he was fired for not noticing.
A week or two later, I did it again. The Girl said nothing until I asked her. Then, she just said, “I know.” Like her 44-year-old mother has purple hair every day. When Hubs got home, once again, he didn’t notice. At dinner, she said, “Dad!” and pointed to me. “Purple hair?!” with a clearly accusatory tone. He stared for a long time, gave me a look, and that was it. When I told him I wanted to get it colored “for real,” he said, “Ok. Do I want to know how much that’s going to cost?” Probably not.
I already had a haircut scheduled, so I called and had them add in time for the color. And then, I had to wait for the day. Finally, Tuesday came. I went in, discussed the color with Jean (my ah-mazing hairstylist), and we got to work.
She decided to bring my natural color up just a bit with bleach. Not too much, so the color wouldn’t be too clownish. And thank goodness she didn’t leave it on for long. It tingled, then itched and burned. Like Lane Kim – running around the block and drinking salad water itching and burning. Next, she applied the purple dye, but it didn’t really take. It looked far more pink than it should have. She asked me if I was still on any meds from the cancer/chemo, because that can have an impact on how the hair takes the color. Nope. Well, Zoloft, but as I said to her, “Aren’t most people with purple hair on crazy meds of some kind?” We both cracked up.
*Note, if you’ve got purple hair and are offended by that, you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog anyway.
She added another process of an indigo dye that should have resulted in purple we were after, but it ended up more magenta. It didn’t look bad, but it wasn’t what I was going for. So, two days later, I went back for her to fix it.
The first step was more bleach. This time, she didn’t let it go all the way to my scalp, so no salad water was needed. But, I did look a bit like Spike. Pardon me while I have some alone time now.
Then, she did the purple again. Still too pink, so she added the indigo again. FINALLY, after two visits and six processes, voilà!
I’m not sure how long I’ll keep it up, but boy, is it fun. I’ve had numerous compliments, and no judgemental looks or comments, save for my mom and MIL. To you two, I say, “Thbbbbtttttt! Love ya!”