Lynnie gets her Jem and the Holograms on
One day last week, completely out of the blue, I was overtaken by a very strong desire to get my hair dyed - more specifically, to get the ends dip-dyed pink. It felt more like an urgent need than a want. It came on me suddenly and unexpectedly and it was so intense that it was almost primal.
You know, a bit like the mega craving you might sometimes get for sour cream and onion Pringles or curry chips or chicken tikka masala or (insert personal food Kryptonite here), when absolutely nothing else on God's green earth will do.
I came *this* close to taking myself off to Bleach - which is to hair as WAH is to nails in London - and even called Himself to warn that he might well arrive home from work to a pink-haired bird. As it turned out, there weren't enough hours in that day for me to get my hair did (it's how all the cool kids are saying it, ma) but sure when did not being able to get to a professional ever put a stop to my beauty gallop before?
I decided to take matters into my own hands with some spray-in, wash-out pink hair colour, which set me back £2.99 in Superdrug. (Claire's Accessories always have a decent selection of this sort of stuff, but good luck finding a can that hasn't been mauled.) Going the temporary route seemed like an eminently sensible move. If the result was awesome, I could happily trot off to Bleach for a more permanent fix; if it looked stupeh, I could simply wash it out and I'd have gotten pink ends out of my system.
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Genius, no?
Well, no, as it happens. Turns out that spray-in hair colour is actually just coloured hairspray (I should perhaps have paid closer attention to the tagline on the can) and I ended up with a rather matted mass of sticky pink ends. Trying to comb through them didn't help: most of the pink seemed to end up on my hairbrush and no sooner had I stopped brushing than the strands melded back together again.
Dis-as-ter.
Within mere minutes of applying it, I was watching the pink disappear down the plughole.
It wasn't gone completely, though: some overspray must have misted onto the floor, which has now left most of my shoes with an interesting Barbie Louboutin sole, and it took two showers for the particles that found their way onto my skin to be washed away.
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Apart from the stickiness and the overspray issues, the overall effect looked completely flipping AMAZEBALLS. I am totally going pink on a more permanent basis for the rest of the summer - watch this space!
Pic credit: jackiesorkin.blogspot.com
