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I’m not sure why I don’t just spend my money on going to a hair salon. Last time I messed up my hair, I burned it off. You can read that story here.  Maybe it’s that I have always had a bit of the “DIY” mentality. Bathroom is dirty? Clean it yourself. No clean clothes? Do some laundry. Heck, I’d like to pay someone to scrub the toilet and wash and fold my stuff, but I work for free around here.

Husband and I have been tightening the budget in order to prepare for purchasing a home. In fact, he was semi- “I refuse to cut my hair because the military forced me to for so long,” and “Once you start, you have to keep going,” and “I have other things to spend $15 on.” The result was hair so tall we actually wound up stealing my Father-In-Law’s weed-wacker in the middle of the night to take a bit off the top of my husband’s head. Would have been much cheaper just to pay $15 from the get-go. But husband and I are both stubborn, and learn lessons the hard way.

Case in point: A woman’s hair is much more costly than a man’s. If a man’s haircut goes bad, he can simply “buzz” his head.

I TRIED THIS… in another serious budgeting phase called ” we’re newlyweds,” and I didn’t do so well on the at-home “Fade it up like a real Puerto Rican” haircut for my beloved husband. First of all, I’m not Puerto Rican, have never given anything but my sister’s Barbies a haircut, and second, the pressure was *sorta* on for me to perform perfectly.  A perfectly faded PR haircut was NOT the result, and my husband wound up buzzing his OWN head. That’s how bad it was, he wouldn’t even let me buzz the rest off.

My track record might not be perfect to start, but we’re all sinners, right?

So here we are, full circle, a woman’s hair is more expensive to maintain…err…fix. I want to dye my hair. I need to dye my hair. My roots are virgin, and the rest of my hair is NOT. So I buy the cheap hair dye, which doesn’t exactly set me back that far, but will improve my professional look. I’ve been dying my own hair for…… years now, so I shouldn’t have a problem, right? Right…. (said sarcastically in a surfer-dude tone).

I decided to go for that Sharon Osbourne-red that I’ve been wanting for so long. I buy the box, notice that it’s permanent, which stinks because I prefer semi-permanent. I dye my hair, ruin a t-shirt, and decide I need to dye my brows, too. Remember how I mentioned my roots were virgin hair? That means they are more porous or something, and absorb more of the color. The rest of my hair was already colored (semi-permanent) so I thought it would take the same.

I washed my hair out and discovered I looked like troll doll meets oompa loompa if the oompa loompa’s hair was orange and not green. Those awful oompa loompa eyebrows? I had those too. RED. I mean, RED. I loved the color but the problem was my roots took the red, and the rest of my hair was dark brown.

My husband got the biggest kick out of it. He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed andlaughedandlaughedandlaughedandlaughedandlaughed, far past the point of it being funny, but that’s the kinda guy he is. I’m so glad I could provide him entertainment. (Maybe I’m writing this story too soon, as I still haven’t laughed even once.)

No, there will NOT be a picture included in this post, because I was too busy using eyeliner to color in my eyebrows (yep, really) and finding a hat to wear. The worst part is that my husband was laughing so hard that he broke his promise to go to the store for my back-up box of hair dye if he heard screaming coming the bathroom.

I went to the store, lost a slippery flip-flop in the rain, and made eye-contact with no one. With the way I looked, I’m bound to wind up on my grocery store’s version of “People of Wal-Mart.”

A few dollars later, same ruined shirt, a burning scalp, another shower, and a nervous glance in the mirror, I have a pretty cherry-cola look, and some much less oompa-loompa like eyebrows.

I seriously came THISCLOSE to buzzing my head…