; when the bad outweighs the good.
Today was a really really bad day.
Gloomy grey clouds and rain greeted me this morning as I headed out to get my hair dyed.
It’s okay, nothing is going to stop me from getting there.
So I got there, 9 minutes early and the employee gestures me to one of the seats once she opens up the salon. I sat down and made myself comfortable as I waited for the hairdresser who was going to do my hair (Who is also the Lady Boss of the shop. And yes, there are only two people working there.)
Then she finally entered, a few minutes late, and I told her that I changed my mind from 3 days back.
3 days ago, I visited them with my mom and asked if they could do what I wanted – Ash blonde/ Rose gold, they said they could but it wouldn’t be 100% the same, which I understood because all I gave them was a picture reference. But back then, I was very dubious that she could pull it off because she sounded so inconfident. Then my mom said that it’s not because she’s inconfident but she didn’t want to ruin my hair with all the bleaching from the roots. So since my mom trusted them so much, I just went for it anyway due to unforeseen circumstances.
I decided to go for ash blonde still, but leaving the top quarter of my hair untouched. I showed her the picture and she went to prepare the materials for bleaching my hair.
I have never bleached my hair before, so I thought that the burn and stinging was supposed to happen. (Guess not)
Fast forward, we are two rounds of bleaching in, and she told me that the sides are not ready yet so she may have to bleach a third round. After discussing with her employee in Cantonese, she decided that she will leave it on for another 15 mins on top of the 40 mins of agony I went through. 5 mins in, she came and applied more bleaching product on my hair and waited the rest of the time out.
When she was washing my hair, she told me that the colour was still different but she was going to dye my entire hair grey so there should not be that much of a difference.
Well, okay, fine. I understand that she doesn’t want my hair to end up too brittle.
So we get into the dying process of my hair and it burns my scalp for like the first 10 mins. And I was thinking, maybe I am slightly allergic to this dye? Or maybe it’s cause I bleached my hair. So I left it alone and it got better overtime.
When she washed it out though. The colour was a deep sea blue.
What the actual f***?
At this point I was thinking that maybe the colour is going to be different when it is blow-dried. But NOPE. It WAS a deep sea blue. And then she asked me if I was too tired after steaming my hair by my request. (I was in the salon from 09 51 hours to like 15 50 hours by this time) She said that she wanted to dye the back of my head again to make the colour equal.
Eventually, I declined the offer because I was very hungry.
I asked her for the price and she called me to the back of the shop. She said that she’ll accept $100 instead of $200+, and apologised for her mistake. I said that it’s okay and quickly handed her $100, and made my way home in the pouring rain.
On my way home I consciously tried to comfort myself. Even though it’s not the colour I wanted, I still look alright in blue.
When I went home and brushed my hair super lightly out of its knots, a whole bunch of dyed hair was stuck in my comb. It was like brushing a dog that sheds A LOT.
I told my mom about it and she was shocked to hear it. She demanded that I showed her the back of my head. And she immediately saw red.
She told me that the entire bunch of hair at my occipital was really short and she said that she will call the Lady Boss to give her a piece of her mind. I told her that there’s no point in kicking up a fuss and I went back to my room.
At this point, I was a bundle of negative emotions. Anguished and petulant, I sat silently on my bed thinking about what I can do as I gobbled down my food. Maybe I could cut my hair short? Like boycut short?
Moments later, my mom came through my door, saying that she scolded the Lady Boss already. And just as I was going to say that she shouldn’t have, I looked up and saw my mom teary-eyed.
My mom is the most generous person I ever know. I have never ever seen her arguing with anyone over a bad product or price. But this time it was different. She was so upset.
She apologised to me, cursed herself, cursed the shop as she paced up and down my bedroom. And if you were an unknowing party, you would think that my mom was the one with the hair problem.
The next hour comprised of my mom calling up her friends to talk about this issue and my dad failing to comfort me despite his efforts (He is not exactly a good comforter).
I almost didn’t want to go for a dance class I promised to go to. But then I thought, “A promise is a promise. Plus it could make me feel better.” And I was right. Going to that dance class was probably the only thing that lifted my spirits. Meeting one of my idols, and receiving a compliment from her was super unreal and yes I couldn’t utter a word in her presence. But sadly, all things come to an end. Before I knew it, an hour of class passed and I had to be on my journey home.
Perhaps I was the failed experiment so that she won’t do the same in the future? She’ll be more careful. Perhaps all that dancing cleared my mind?
Halfway through my journey, I got a call from home. My mom told me that the Lady Boss came to apologise, return the $100 and above all that, give me a brand new bag from Coach. No matter how mad I was, I didn’t want her to waste money on a BRANDED brand new bag!
As I got home, I looked into the bag, set on the table in my mom’s room. It was a nice bag to be honest. It’s a little black bag with gold zippers. Damn she knows my style.
I slipped my arm through and slung the bag over my shoulder, posing for my mom. She nodded her head in approval so why not keep it right?
I settled down next to her and I told her how I was worried that my hair would come off everytime I comb it. I told her that I wanted to cut my hair off. And at the latter idea, she reacted strongly.
She said that I had to wait for the hair to grow out first before getting it cut. And that’s when I knew the truth. The bleach bleached to my roots and if I cut it now, I would be bald at my occipital. At this ‘newfound knowledge’, I stomped off in rage back into my bedroom. I didn’t want to curse infront of my mother. But this really threw me off.
So now all I can do is wait.
I am so sorry that this is a post inspired from my anger and sadness. Let me know if you have had a bad experience at the salon?
Warmest hugs (it should be plenty warm today),