Going Grey

I just wanted to have grey hair so bad. I mean, it looks amazing on everyone. It is so in right now. And I truly think I could pull grey hair off.

 

So I innocently made an appointment to my local hair salon. All my misadventures start with the best of intentions. How hard was it to get a hair dye?

 

Here is a picture of me before. In case you guys forgot how fantastic my hair is.

 

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I don’t know why I look so emo here

 

I brought a book and some water (which I cannot go anywhere without) and was ready for it to take about 2 hours. That was normal for the intense bleaching and then toning I was looking for. But I was willing to wait and brave chemical burns for my new found sense of style.

 

That first night we bleached my hair. And I wound up looking like Thranduil.

 

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I hate my hot elvish son

 

But my hair refused to lighten enough to go grey. The hair stylist decided to try foiling my hair. The process was fascinating. Not least because she mistakenly thought kitchenware would help where probable cancer causing chemicals did not.

 

But I wound up looking like some sort of gingery blonde. I have to admit. It was pretty cute.

 

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So happy and smiley.

 

But five days later, I returned to her chair with my book. And we bleached it again. My hair did not like the bleaching. But I really did not care. My hair would be tamed.

 

And I wound up looking like Draco Malfoy.

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My father will hear about this!

 

It actually looked pretty cute for a week. But it still was not grey.

 

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Doctor Who in the house!

 

So I went back a third time. I finished my novel. I was reading Gulp by Mary Roach. As an aside here, if Mary Roach is looking for a 31 year old friend that lives in Florida I am available. All her books are amazing, hilarious and informative. And Gulp is also fascinatingly gross.

 

After two more bleachings, my hair was finally light enough to go grey. In case you lost count, that’s four bleachings in two weeks. Yes, my scalp was angry. My hair still has a bit of a weird texture to it. But not even a nuclear explosion could make that shit fall out. (Though actually it could since that is one of the symptoms of radiation poisoning).

 

We both realized that the reason we struggled with my hair so much was that I had auburn hair as a kid. Apparently red heads have difficult hair to bleach. Who knew?

 

So I had grey hair for one hot minute.

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I dare you to tell me I don’t look fantastic here.

 

But the bleach has been working on my hair over time now and a few weeks later, I am blonde again.

 

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Me now. Making some weird face.

 

I think next time I will go back to my childhood roots and dye it red. Sorry for all the pics of myself! 

Back (look I did a pun or is it a double entendre?)

Soo….. I am back.

Like, really back. For real.

I know what many of you are thinking. And frankly, you’re all a bunch of pervs.

But seriously.

Something pretty bad happened and it’s taken me a while to feel capable of being funny about it. But I think I’m there now. Lucky for all of you.

I am sure you all remember that time I fell down a flight of stairs and hurt my back. If not, feel free to read about it here.

So, I recently had to get a new MRI. My back pain has been getting worse. And my doctor wanted to see where we were. I mean, I knew where I was. In lots of pain.

When the results came back my doctor sat me down for a serious talk. My disc is herniated and pressing on a nerve that goes into my groin. So she asked me, “Are you having any issues with incontinence?”

Now, you guys all know that I totally am. *cough cough* Here.

But like any responsible adult, I lied my ass off to my doctor.

She explained to me that incontinence is a sign of serious nerve damage. And that if I am experiencing it then I would need to see a neurosurgeon about getting back surgery.

Nothing like being threatened with surgery to get the truth out of me. So I told her I was having issues. Needless to say, my doctor was not pleased. Hell, I wasn’t pleased.

She also told me that my vertebrae were also pressing on my spinal cord (called spinal stenosis and is a result of the disc herniation). And that, untreated, it could cause me to become paralyzed.

And some combination of those three things are causing my constant back pain.

I’m not sure what my response was at that point. I believe I may have bragged about winning the genetic lottery. I know it isn’t fair to rub that in people’s faces but I really am a sore winner. And then I got the hell out of her office so she couldn’t see me cry. 

She referred me to a pain management doctor to see about getting shots in my back for the pain. And she referred me to a neurosurgeon to see about getting back surgery.

I left her office and cried for basically the entire day. I also texted a bunch of my friends some whiny self-pitying bullshit. Sorry, friends!

But then I started joking about trading in my body for a robot body. Like, a sexy lady robot with 8 foot long legs and laser gun arms. And I had to admit, that was pretty cool. But unlikely.

More likely was that I would be paralyzed and get a wheelchair. So I started thinking about that instead. But my wheelchair was going to be bitchin’. I wanted like, a glow in the dark human skeleton frame. And I would knit and embroider all the panels and spokes. And maybe carve some Enochian spells from Supernatural into it.

That wheelchair would be cool as fuck.

That night I lie in bed and thought. It’s not like back surgery would be worse than five heart surgeries. It’s not like being paralyzed would be the worst thing to ever happen to me. Not even death was scary to me. I had already made my peace with it years ago.

So what was the big deal?

Turns out nothing. I waited for my doctor’s appointments and tried to pretend like I was fine. Not facing the reality of my life is a finely honed skill. And I am on some expert wizard level at that.

But, I found out this week that my neurosurgeon wants to wait on back surgery. My pain management doctor wants to put some needles into my spine (which sounds metal as all hell).

And now I am just waiting to make sure I’m not allergic to the drugs I’ll get pumped full of. Which would be my luck.

In reality, nothing much has changed. My back doesn’t hurt worse now that I have names for my problems. And I’ve been making a lot of pretty dark jokes to everyone about it.

So I am back!

And I decided to dye my hair grey to match my tired, shitty, old person body. That story will be next!