The night I dyed

Last night I dyed my hair. For the first time. At age 43. My grey, frazzled bits could no longer be ignored. I skipped the “essential” 48-hours-prior allergy test. Reckless, but I hate waiting. I bought my $17 box of dye at Woolies yesterday afternoon (last of the big spenders when it comes to personal grooming), and I wanted to use it IMMEDIATELY. But I couldn’t, because I needed to take Sprog 1 to the library for her regular 20-book top-up. Then I had to chase the chickens around and around and around the backyard so I could lock them up out of the rain. Then I had to make dinner. (Went for the lamb, you’ll be pleased to know Megz, and it was fan-tastic. Refer to yesterday’s blog for the recipe.) Then I had to eat dinner. Then I had to watch the Doctor Who finale. Then I had to put the Sprogs to bed. Then, finally, it was dye time. I was a bit nervous about stuffing it up. That “permanent” word on the box is scary. I was also nervous about having included Sprog 2 in the colour choice process (Sprog 2 loves a supermarket trawl). Was “dark auburn” really the shade for me? I’d been rather partial to the “light auburn”, but Sprog 2 was quite insistent. Sprog 2 was wrong. Never trust a five-year-old with your hair dye choices. Husband went all wide-eyed and called me Brunhilda (whatever that means) when he saw me and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment. The 30-minute processing time was pretty fruitful, though. I’d forgotten to take a book into the bathroom, so I passed the time by conducting an archeolgical dig in my makeup case. Fascinating. I found an unpresented cheque from 2009, a large bottle of serum stuff that I don’t remember purchasing let alone using (despite it being half empty) and the launching device for the glider Sprog 2 got for Christmas (so that’s where it got to!). I sorted all the lipsticks into one compartment, all the mascaras and assorted pointy things into another. All the old bits of floss and tampon wrappers went in the bin. Very cathartic. With 20 minutes still remaining, I got really bored and decided to read the fine print on the hair dye instruction sheet. Most distressing. It had all these warnings about avoiding the product if you’ve used henna on your hair. Cue shallow, distressed breathing – I’ve been using henna shampoo to cover my grey for years. Bloody instructions didn’t offer any clue as to what might happen after applying the product when you’ve used henna. Will your hair fall out? Will it turn green. Will you start fitting on the bathroom floor? Thankfully none of those things happened. Well, they haven’t yet. Try not to blanche next time you see me. Just smile and tell me how great I look. OK?   

TONIGHT’S MENU: Margaret Fulton’s devilled chicken. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s verdict.

One thought on “The night I dyed

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  1. i have dyed my hair for years & years & years… i still have NO grey, but, as Mrs Street pointed out in year 9 science “some ppl have the gene for blue eyes, like susan, some ppl have the gene for brown eyes like richard, & some have the gene for lank mouse brown hair like megan’… true story!

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