Duck, Magnum! DUCK!

The hairstylist thinks I'm hysterical because I walked into the salon with purple hair, plan to dye it green, and yet hyperventilated when I saw myself blonde. Makes perfect sense to me; I'd rather be mistaken for a druggie slut than a rabid prep. Also, it's odd to see my skin have more color than my hair. I look...oddly tan. Alive, maybe? Is that COLOR in my cheeks? At least my eyes are still happy being green.

One simple color change has turned my carefully cultivated nerdslut look into some sort of sporty pseudo-prep hell. I plan on wearing a large sombrero until the green dye arrives on Thursday.

Ah hell. Without further ado, here thar be pictures.

As you can see, it's pretty brown at the roots, though the red and purple were still scarily obvious on the tips.


They put me in something called "a heavy foil." That doesn't mean a lot of foil. It's literally a fucking heavy foil. My neck hurts, and I was all floppy. (Ignore the pic qual. Cameraphone.)


It ended up being a very heavy foil, indeed. Topheavy.
"Look, I'm a metronome!" *wobble* "Ohfuck-!"


Maddo found the entire ordeal highly amusing.

And now, here's what you guys actually wanted to see, linked because I am still too traumatized to look in the mirror:
1) This is not me.
2) This is also not me.
3) This is a very sad me.

As soon as it's green, it will look amazing, but right now it's just...scary. You can see traces of red and purple left at the ends, and some strands of my hair were left unbleached. All of that is going to give the green amazing depth, so when it's out in the sun it will be even more awesome.

I'm going to go hide now.