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A Touch Of Grey

The other day I found my first grey hair.

Okay, technically it was my second grey hair. One did accidentally slip out last year but it didn’t last long. Within two minutes it had been plucked from my head, never to be seen again, so I don’t think it counts.

So, I found this hair. It sat on my head, right at the front of my forehead. Short and wiry, it hung there bobbing about laughing at me.

Now, I thoroughly intend to grow old disgracefully, so naturally, this hair didn’t last long either. It did take about ten minutes to get it out, the little sucker kept evading the tweezers, but it went. Unfortunately, despite it being gone, this did lead to some paranoia. Worry that there were more took over, so there was only one thing I could do. It needed to be dyed.

I high-tailed it to the shops for something to cover any other hairs that might be hiding on my head.

Have you ever used a home dying kit?

Well, unless you’re a very small person, good luck with the gloves. Alright, maybe I do have large hands, but seriously, the gloves were rubbish. Within three minutes they had a hole in them and dye was spreading all over my hands. Not that I noticed until it had already stained my skin. Still, I powered on, separating my hair and applying the liquid. What small amount of it there was.

Luckily knowing I have thick hair, I had brought two dye kits. Good job too or I would be strolling around the supermarket in my old painting clothes. Half my hair would have been tied up and the other half looking like it had been dipped in a chip pan, while I went to buy more.

So anyway, I applied the dye. Naturally, this was the moment when the phone rang.

I had dye on my hands. Dollops of it dripping onto my ears before sliding down them onto the floor, and this is the moment when someone decides to tell me I’ve been in an accident!

I was no impressed.

Forty minutes later, I had finally covered my hair and I checked the instructions for how long to leave it on for.

No more the forty minutes!

So I’m stood there in my bathroom. Scared to move in case I step in the dye puddles all over the floor. Trying desperately to stop my white cat from playing in them. While attempting to figure out, how long the dye that I first put on my hair will have been on after another forty minutes.

This is one bit I really don’t understand. If it can’t be on your hair for longer than forty minutes and it took forty minutes to apply what are you supposed to do? rinse the hair that you applied it to first and leave the rest?

Someone really didn’t think it through when they wrote the rules.

I began cleaning the floor, praying that half my hair didn’t fall out, and that’s when the cat stepped into the dye.

I lost track of time as I chased her around the house to clean her paws. At one point I thought I had her but she and the dog joined forces and took turns trying to trip me. In the end, I managed to avoid her getting dye on the carpet but gained some scratches in the process.

So, about an hour later I finally rinsed my hair. I dried it and styled it and admired my new colour. Well, the bits of hair it had stayed on. For some reason, the hair dye I’d put on first, the parts that had been on for roughly an hour and a half, didn’t take. It looked exactly the same as before!

Why it didn’t dye, I have no idea. (It took well enough on the cat!) But anyway, I now have the top of my hair coloured and the bottom, not.

On the bright side, My hands colour co-ordinate with the top of my hair brilliantly.

On the down side, so does my cat!

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