So Im 65 now and, honestly, most of my life Ive never been too bothered about how I look, though I have to admit the greys have really started winning the war lately. And Im not talking one or two strands no, whole patches, especially at the roots. Going to the hairdresser suddenly seemed like such a faff between the time, the price, and having to book ahead, I started thinking maybe it wouldnt be the end of the world if I coloured my hair myself at home. After all, Ive done my hair plenty of times before. What could possibly go wrong, right?
So I popped down to the local chemist didnt bother with a fancy hair salon or anything. Told the girl at the counter I was after hair dye “for stubborn greys. She asked me what shade, and I just said, a basic chestnut brown, nothing wild. She picked out a box for me, looked proper serious and understated, with a woman who had gorgeous hair on the front. It even said, “100% grey coverage. That convinced me I didnt even bother reading the rest. Got back home, certain that in an hour, Id be sorted.
I threw on an old t-shirt, grabbed a towel, mixed everything up according to the instructions, and slapped the dye on in front of the bathroom mirror. At first, everything looked Business As Usual the colour was dark, just as Id expected. I sat down to wait, thought Id put the time to good use doing the washing up and tidying the kitchen.
About twenty minutes in, I glanced in the mirror and started to notice something odd. My hair wasnt looking brown at all it looked sort of purple. I figured it was probably the bathroom lighting playing tricks. Told myself I was being silly.
The moment of truth came when I rinsed the dye out. Even as soon as the water hit my head, I could see the colour coming out first purple, then dark brown, then almost jet black. Peering at myself in the steamy mirror, there I was, with strange lilac and violet tones and a weird shade I cant even name. Yes, the greys were gone. But at what cost?
I tried blow drying my hair, hoping the colour might change as it dried. If anything, it just looked bolder. I looked less like a respectable woman in her sixties and more like someone whod just lost a bet on one of those dodgy makeover shows. Couldnt help but laugh at myself, reallywhat else can you do?
Rang my daughter on a video call and as soon as she saw me, she was barely holding back a fit of giggles. She goes, Mum… what have you done? I just replied, Book me a hair appointment, please.
Had to face the world the next day looking like that. I tried to cover it with a scarf, but the purple kept peeking out. At the corner shop, the lad at the till asked if Id tried out a new look. Some woman at the bakery called me brave for choosing that kind of colour. I just nodded along, pretending Id meant for all of it to happen.
Two days later, I showed up at the salon with not an ounce of pride left. The hairdresser took one look and instantly got the picture didnt judge me, just said, Honestly, this happens more often than youd think.
Walked out of the salon with my hair sorted, my purse definitely lighter, and a very clear lesson: there are some things you think you can still do just like you always did until you find yourself with purple hair. Ive come to accept two simple facts: greys turn up uninvited, and some battles are best left to the professionals.
No family meltdown, just a true story for the collection!
