One of my favourite things - of which there aren't a great deal, I admit, about dying my unkempt head-nest is that magical 30-45 minutes that you have to kill between apply and rinse. It's not long enough to properly get stuck into something, and you can't exactly go for a stroll looking like you're channelling a strong There's Something About Mary vibe, so it feels like a kind of time-vortex that you can spend as you please. During my last self-dye job (before the Spockbrow incident), I compiled this list of things to do whilst dying your hair. How very girly of me:
1. Plaster all of your hair flat to your head and imagine how you'd look bald (fit, I bet!). Crank up some tunes and dance, baldy, dance!! Some old faithful tracks from my playlist:
- LippsInc: Funky Town
- Wild Cherry: Play That Funky Music White Boy
- Blondie: Heart Of Glass
- Florence And The Machine: Kiss With A Fist
- Any Blink 182 song. There is no wrong Blink 182 song.
2. Plan to do some work, but instead end up on Youtube for half an hour. Here are some videos that should kill some time:
http://youtu.be/FYfZwDorJsw - Jenna Marbles: What Girls Do In The Bathroom
http://youtu.be/vl6azn-DzeE - My Drunk Kitchen: Ice Cream
http://youtu.be/MYC-waukYWo - Bad Lip Reading: More Twilight
http://youtu.be/PWXsTaBoD7A - Deap Valley: Gonna Make My Own Money (choon!)
3. This requires some prep before you apply the hair dye:
* Remove the contents of your home dye kit and store them somewhere hidden for later use. Put the box back in your bag/ satchel/ skin pouch (if you're a kangaroo/ have evolved skin pockets).
* Tell your housemate/ family/ live-in luuurve buddy that you bought this awesome hair removal stuff today, which is supposed to leave your legs, like sooo smooth for over a month etc. etc. )You can already see where I'm going with this one, can't you, Clever Clogs? Damn, you's smart!).
* Talk about some other stuff for a bit.
* Casually announce that you are off to the bathroom to dye your lustrous mane.
* Apply hair dye, and go back to the person you were talking to.
* Complain about your head itching and ask if they're cooking something, because you can smell burning.
* Pretend to distractedly root through your bag a bit, only to resurface puzzled with the empty dye box that you stashed earlier. Make confused eye contact. Wait for it to dawn on your victim that you have just caked your head in hair removal cream, and judge them based on their reaction.
4. Stand creepily in the window and stare unblinkingly at passers by. Offer the occasional po-faced wave.
5. Eat everything in sight as you think about how to best kill your time. Before you know it, you'll have a bad case of the cookie burps, but time will have flown!
Showing posts with label hair dye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hair dye. Show all posts
Monday, 18 February 2013
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Davina McCall Threatened My Face
I spent my evening at a house party last night, trying my best not to let the fact that I was expecting to turn into the Elephant Man at any given second show. Not exactly how I thought it was going to pan out.
Yesterday afternoon, I decided that it was high time that I covered the badger stripe of brown roots running along the middle of my head, and bought a brand I hadn't used before for a change. And because the Live dye I usually buy is making my hair whiter with each use. Time to tone the colour down a bit lest I start glowing in the dark. Which would be pretty cool, but still...
The fact that the brand is advertised by my new arch nemesis Davina McCall (see older post "Davina McCall Took My Legs") should've set off alarm bells from the beginning. Once I secured my dye, I marched on home and proceeded to chuck the whole lot over my head willy-nilly without doing the advised patch test for allergies. Because I've never had an allergic reaction to dye before, and because I'm a fucking maverick. Thirty mins later, I hopped in the shower to rinse the lovely horse piss smell that blonde hairdye emits off of my head. I conditioned, sang some songs loudly and out of tune and hopped back out to dry my new mane. All good in the hood.
Then I called my mother dearest for one of our lovely chats.
"What you up to then, mum?"
"Not much, waiting for the boiler to be fixed etc etc...(not a direct quote, I'll be honest). You?"
"Just dyed my hair. Lips feel a bit weird, though. Sort of numb."
*audible gasp from other end of line*
"Nah, it's okay. I went running in the cold earlier, so they're probably just dry or something."
"Oh my God, go to a doctor! Are you alone? Is your face swelling? You could go into anaphylactic shock, you could die! People DIE dying their hair!!...etc etc" I laughed it all off and assured her I'd live, and then went about my business. And by business, I mean that I went foraging for snacks that I could drop all over my pyjamas at four in the afternoon. That's just how I roll.
THEN I chanced to glimpse my face side-on in the little portable mirror that lives in my living room. My hand flew up to my mouth, and I felt my pulse quicken. With sweating palms, I inspected my features further. There was definitely a small but noticeable amount of swelling over each of my eyes. Especially the right one. Well, that was it, then. Mum was right. I'm was going to die.
My reaction was the same as that of any internet-loving serial hypochondriac's - I googled the fuck out of my symptoms. Obviously no good can come of this. I was treated to pages upon pages of horror stories about people's faces ballooning overnight to the size of footballs. All of them included graphic pictures of faces that resembled giant potatoes with creases for eyes, but no solution as to what you should do when you think you're going to experience an explosion of the face. A facesplosion, if you will. So, I lay in the dark in bed at five pm because I'd decided that if I was going to have to accept my fate as the wearer of a giant, pus-leaking head, I'd rather be napping through some of it.
After an hour or so, A returned from work to find me lying in the fetal position under the covers, still wide awake and freaking out.
"Don't look at meee!"
Anyway, you don't need to know every single detail of the night that followed, but as you've already read, I went to the house party. I'm not blogging from a hospital bed either, so all is well and normally proportioned on the face front. Instead of looking like the Elephant Man, my deformation only got as far as Crap Extra From Star Trek. Most of what little swelling I had stayed hidden under my fringe like a good allergic reaction, and my face didn't eat my eyes.
Lessons:
- Always patch test for hair dye, even if you dye your hair as often as I do and haven't reacted before.
- If you do experience a reaction, do NOT turn to Google or your mum for advice.
- Davina McCall is the antichrist and can't be trusted.
Happy Sunday, all!
Yesterday afternoon, I decided that it was high time that I covered the badger stripe of brown roots running along the middle of my head, and bought a brand I hadn't used before for a change. And because the Live dye I usually buy is making my hair whiter with each use. Time to tone the colour down a bit lest I start glowing in the dark. Which would be pretty cool, but still...
The fact that the brand is advertised by my new arch nemesis Davina McCall (see older post "Davina McCall Took My Legs") should've set off alarm bells from the beginning. Once I secured my dye, I marched on home and proceeded to chuck the whole lot over my head willy-nilly without doing the advised patch test for allergies. Because I've never had an allergic reaction to dye before, and because I'm a fucking maverick. Thirty mins later, I hopped in the shower to rinse the lovely horse piss smell that blonde hairdye emits off of my head. I conditioned, sang some songs loudly and out of tune and hopped back out to dry my new mane. All good in the hood.
Then I called my mother dearest for one of our lovely chats.
"What you up to then, mum?"
"Not much, waiting for the boiler to be fixed etc etc...(not a direct quote, I'll be honest). You?"
"Just dyed my hair. Lips feel a bit weird, though. Sort of numb."
*audible gasp from other end of line*
"Nah, it's okay. I went running in the cold earlier, so they're probably just dry or something."
"Oh my God, go to a doctor! Are you alone? Is your face swelling? You could go into anaphylactic shock, you could die! People DIE dying their hair!!...etc etc" I laughed it all off and assured her I'd live, and then went about my business. And by business, I mean that I went foraging for snacks that I could drop all over my pyjamas at four in the afternoon. That's just how I roll.
THEN I chanced to glimpse my face side-on in the little portable mirror that lives in my living room. My hand flew up to my mouth, and I felt my pulse quicken. With sweating palms, I inspected my features further. There was definitely a small but noticeable amount of swelling over each of my eyes. Especially the right one. Well, that was it, then. Mum was right. I'm was going to die.
My reaction was the same as that of any internet-loving serial hypochondriac's - I googled the fuck out of my symptoms. Obviously no good can come of this. I was treated to pages upon pages of horror stories about people's faces ballooning overnight to the size of footballs. All of them included graphic pictures of faces that resembled giant potatoes with creases for eyes, but no solution as to what you should do when you think you're going to experience an explosion of the face. A facesplosion, if you will. So, I lay in the dark in bed at five pm because I'd decided that if I was going to have to accept my fate as the wearer of a giant, pus-leaking head, I'd rather be napping through some of it.
After an hour or so, A returned from work to find me lying in the fetal position under the covers, still wide awake and freaking out.
"Don't look at meee!"
Anyway, you don't need to know every single detail of the night that followed, but as you've already read, I went to the house party. I'm not blogging from a hospital bed either, so all is well and normally proportioned on the face front. Instead of looking like the Elephant Man, my deformation only got as far as Crap Extra From Star Trek. Most of what little swelling I had stayed hidden under my fringe like a good allergic reaction, and my face didn't eat my eyes.
Lessons:
- Always patch test for hair dye, even if you dye your hair as often as I do and haven't reacted before.
- If you do experience a reaction, do NOT turn to Google or your mum for advice.
- Davina McCall is the antichrist and can't be trusted.
Happy Sunday, all!
Friday, 21 December 2012
Preparation Time!
I'm sloshing with coffee, I can't keep still, and my hair smells like something toxic. Must be the run up to a Black Friday night of fun and festivities! Anyone else braving the crowds and the cocktails that suddenly cost fifty billion pounds tonight as well, I salute you!
.... I call this image "Welcome to the laboratory"
.... I call this image "Welcome to the laboratory"
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