As I do every first weekend of every month, I went to go and have my hair coloured and cut on Saturday. 

Now, I have been going to this one salon for about 3 or 4 years now and always with the same stylist.  I am a firm believer in forming a relationship with people that do your grooming for you (eg. Hairstylist, waxing etc).  Little did I know that this Saturday would not be like normal!

Usually I go at around 9 or so in the morning, just when Zani goes down for her morning nap.  Now, to give you some background, I recently dyed my hair with a bit of a copper undertone.  When the stylist, lets call him Calvin shall we?  So, when Calvin asked me what I wanted to have done this time, I said that I would like to go back to blond – my natural hair colour.  He said sure, but he will have to bleach my hair to get rid of the red/copper.  I readily agreed as I thought, hey, this guy is a professional and would never do something that may not be 100% right, right?  WRONG!!

So, on went the bleach and I started reading my Kindle whilst my hair was being cooked under the (very) hot thingy that they put over your head.  After about 30 min I had to go and have my hair rinsed.  Upon my horror when I looked in the mirror I had orange hair.  Now, let me be crystal clear here, it was carrot orange!  You know that song “they call him ginger biscuit, they call him carrot top”?  Yip, that one!  It was going through my mind, over and over and over again.  But still, I remained quiet and subdued and submitted myself for round 2 of “toning of the heir”.  After another hour or so, I made the now familiar trip to the basin.  At this stage I was still full of trust in Calvin that he would fix this.  I mean, he would never let me leave with orange hair would he? 

I am glad to say that he did not leave me with orange hair, but rather with virginal white on top and a lovely shade of carrot around the sides and the back.  Now you might be asking what I said to him whilst he was standing next to me and I was waiting for my credit card to accept the R1900 charge that this little adventure has cost me…..I’m am ashamed to say that I actually thanked him for his time!  Can you believe it.

I was hoping that it did not look as bad as I feared it did, but that hope was quickly squashed when Deon started laughing at me when I walked out of the hairdressers.  Upon me asking him what he thought of it, his words were “Well, you were going for something different right?  You certainly got that!”  I was not impressed, but I soldiered on through the day with my multi-toned hair.

As I am typing this, my hair is back to brown thanks to a R120 box of dye, courtesy of Checkers, bought on Sunday.

My lesson from this……maybe it is time to look for a new hairdresser???  Any ideas?