Pajammy Party

Pillow fights, secrets, s'mores and scary stories. Sleeping bag not required.

I’m blue.

And I mean that literally and figuratively.

I’m sad because my hair is blue.

It’s not purple, it’s not blurple, it’s god damn blue.

And it was supposed to be purple. The label on the bottle said “deep purple,” for fuck’s sake. And I’ve been using that brand and that shade for years. For years. But apparently, they decided to change the formula. And the formula wants everyone to have blue hair. So much for democracy and the freedom of choice.

It smells different too.

And I thought yesterday’s low point would be the ten minutes I spent on that elliptical machine, otherwise known as the machine of death. By the time I stepped off, my legs were rubber. I have no idea how I managed to walk across the gym to get to the stairs.

The truth is, I only go through cardio to get to the best part – boxing. And I have to admit, despite the exhaustion and aches and pains, it was fun brushing the dust off my gloves.

After boxing yesterday, I headed straight for my hair dresser who, luckily, was willing to wait for me past closing time. I sat in his chair for three hours, getting bleached, getting dyed, watching TV, restocking my Tiny Tower, getting reacquainted with Nick and Norah, talking about his past love.

I left his salon with blue hair.

It’s probably going to turn purple after I take a bath, I thought, thinking that the color just looked blue because it was so intense.

But when I turned on the shower, I started dripping blue. The suds turned purple when I shampooed, giving me hope. Yes! Yes! Yes! That’s more like it! I thought, as the purple suds covered the floor, making the bathroom look like a purple crime scene.

I stepped out of the shower, got dressed and the first thing Giff told me when he saw me was, “Beks, your hair is blue.”

Insert your favorite expletive here.

When the plan is Grimace and you are turned into Cookie Fucking Monster, I think you have the right to want to punch something.

But I didn’t. I am trying to be mellow about it (yes, this is mellow). When life gives you blue hair, you drink lemonade. But there was no lemonade to be found. So I grabbed a Hoegaarden and I drank it in a cup with ice. Beer. In a cup. With ice. And I didn’t even finish the whole thing. When did I become such a wuss?

When I had blue hair, that’s when.

RIP, Raw Hair Dye. We had some good times. But I am now switching to Manic Panic.

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One thought on “I’m blue.

  1. look at it on the bright side! you could be a smurfette!

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