This hairstyle worried Rachel the most. She actually lost sleep over it. I had complete faith in her, though. I also had zero understanding of the color chemistry involved in this kind of transformation. The answer was: several applications, blistered hands (hers), a singed scalp (mine), and several real prayers begging that my hair follicles wouldn’t give up and let go.
During the two-day process, I had the privilege of channeling my inner Shaneequa, Carol Brady, and Donald Trump. We were quite afraid, actually.
And, Rach has outdone herself. We ended up with a style I’d NEVER have tried before. It’s so foreign, and so fun. There are latent pastel highlights hanging on from the pink, purple, and blue past styles. I kind of love them. The only downside to this do, really, is that now no one in my neighborhood waves back to me. I still drive the same car, but apparently, a good portion of people recognize us based on our hairstyle.
I don’t feel as naked as I thought I’d feel. I don’t feel as elderly as I thought I’d feel. But I don’t feel same-old-me, either. This one is definitely different. This will probably be the only few weeks I’m blonde in my whole life, and it’s exciting! I can’t believe it took me so long to allow myself this experience. It’s been one of the most important of my life.