Yep, my friends, my hair is now a shade sweetly termed, “Cinnamon Stick.” (And I would like to proudly state I just spelled “cinnamon” correctly the very first time. I was completely expecting the little red line of misspelled death and I didn’t get it. I will chalk that one up as a blessing for the day.)
I’ve had gray hairs since 2000. I found my first gray hair while backpacking in Spain with my friends Ana and Cory-Turk. I was stunned and terrified it was the beginning of a quick descent into a new hair shade. I plucked that baby out of my head and attached it to my travel journal with a picture of all of us from the Barcelona Aquarium photo sticker booth.
Ah. Those were the days.
Fast forward 12 years and I have more than one stingy little gray hair. They’ve been breeding along my part-line like frisky rabbits. So, tonight I donned the plastic gloves, mixed the dye and waited the 30 minutes necessary for gray or stubborn hair. (My hair fits both of those descriptors quite nicely.)
Halfway through my wait time I felt something itch the back of my ear. When I reached up to scratch I realized I had committed a party foul:
I forgot to clean the dye off my ears.
Really. Not only was it still there, large globs of hair dye were hanging out right where my ear tip would be if I were an elf like Legolas.
So now I have cinnamon stick hair and ears that look like I’ve been smitten with leprosy. It’s unfortunate.
(That’s also the first time I’ve used the word “smitten” as the past tense of “smite.” Usually I only use it when I want to note a budding infatuation or love. But I checked, it’s grammatically correct. Spelling and grammar success, all in one night! Wow!)
I confessed my blunder to the facebook world and discovered something amazing — all sorts of women I know are coloring their hair these days. And we all think it’s wrong because, you know, we graduated high school three weeks ago and stuff.
Reminds me of the quote: “I don’t want to make you jealous or anything, but I can still fit into the earrings I wore in high school.”
Except, well, I can’t really wear those earrings because I’ll be waiting for the brown dye to wear off of my ears.
Do you have any personal care taking blunders of your own to confess? Tell us, tell us!