My sister's roommate, Julie, had agreed to highlight my sister's hair for her at home. It turned out fabulous! So, after some good ol' peer pressure, Julie agreed to do the same for me on Tuesday night. This is great! I'm gonna save so much money. I'm gonna look so good. I wonder what should I spend the extra dough on?!
Knowing that successful highlighting depends upon fast, symmetrical work, I was starting to get nervous. Julie had been working on the front of my head for quite some time.
"Julie?"
"Yes, Christy?"
"Didn't you say that you needed to work quickly? Ummm, well, it seems like it's taking a little longer than it should. I think the front foils have been left on for a quite awhile now."
"True. Okay, I'll work faster. Don't worry! It's gonna look great."
After ten more minutes...
"Julie?"
"Yes, Christy?"
"Shouldn't I start rinsing this out?"
"No, the back needs ten more minutes to set."
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got the nod. "It's time. Go rinse!"
Woohoo! Whistling a happy tune as I'm shampooing, I'm excited to see my new hair. I'm gonna be gorgeous! Doo da. Doo da. My sister and Julie are anxiously awaiting the results. As I towel off, I call to them that it's time to unveil. Drumroll, please?
With a sweep of the head that would make the Breck commercial girls jealous, I turn to face them. Uh oh. My sister's face goes sheet white! Her mouth gapes open as she flings herself against the wall. Sliding down the wall, she is squeaking something and with a last twitch, she knocks everything off of the toilet. When she finally stops flinging and falling, hysterical laughter bursts forward.
Julie just runs out of the room.
Oh no. This can't be good. I look in the mirror to see stripes of my hair a very bright shade of orangish white with a patch in the front that was the color of my skull. Please note that I have dark brown hair. AAAAAYYYYYEEEEE!!! It looked like someone had shaved off a big square in the front of my head. OH DEAR LOOOOORD! Someone do something. Help!
My salon will help! I run for the phone. Ring ring. Oh gawd, somebody answer the phone. PLEASE! "You have reached us after hours. Please leave a message." I yell into the phone, "I have an emergency! My friend highlighted my hair and it's ooooooorange! CALL ME!" I call my boss, "I won't be coming in to work tomorrow. Don't ask. Just please, don't ask."
Thankfully, my salon was able to fit me in first thing the next morning. Sitting in the chair, I began to wonder if they hadn't shared my desperate, pleading voicemail with the entire staff. There was a slow parade of peopele that the kept walking by to steal a glance and quite obviously stifle laughter. My stylist, Beau, just stood there, shaking his head, saying,
"Sister, this color of orange does not look good on you."
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