Free Hair, Expensive Lessons: The Day I Tried to Become a Cool 22 Year Old Blonde and Became a Walking Traffic Cone

We’ve all had those moments at 22 where we think, “You know what would completely redefine my identity and make me look incredibly sharp? Going blonde.”

For my entire life up until that point, I had been a standard, predictable brunette. But 26 years ago, I decided it was time for a change. I pictured myself with that effortless, textured, bright blonde hair you see on musicians or athletes. The universe seemed to agree with my sudden burst of confidence when a girl I knew hooked me up with the ultimate deal. A completely free bleach and tone session at a local beauty salon school. Free? For a major hair transformation that usually costs a fortune? I felt like I had cracked the matrix!

If you’ve never been to a hair school, the vibe is basically high stakes arts and crafts. My student stylist was incredibly nice, though I could see her sweating a bit as she mixed up a massive bowl of lightener. I sat in that chair for hours, my scalp tingling with the chemical promise of a new look. I kept telling myself, “Just trust the process. You're going to look like a European footballer.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of rinsing, brushing, and anticipation, she turned me around to face the mirror for the grand reveal.

The student beamed. I stared.

My hair wasn’t blonde. It wasn't even dirty blonde. It was a violent, radioactive, neon bright orange!

Imagine a Cheeto that has been left out in the sun. Imagine a high visibility construction vest. That was my head. It turns out that dark brown hair has a massive amount of warm, underlying red and orange pigments. If you don't leave the bleach on long enough or if you skip the magic of a powerful toner, you don't get a platinum aesthetic, you get a walking traffic hazard.

I looked at the girl, who was looking at me with pure, innocent pride. I looked at the instructor, who gave me a sympathetic, tight lipped smile that basically said, "Well, you get what you pay for." And since what I paid was exactly zero dollars, I couldn't even be mad. I just politely nodded, gave them a fist bump through a frozen smile, and walked out into the blinding sunlight, praying nobody I knew would see me.

I spent the next two weeks hiding under a rotating collection of baseball caps and beanies before a professional salon could safely salvage my fried, neon strands. So, what did I learn from my brief stint as a human fire hydrant?

   1. There is no such thing as a free lunch, and there is definitely no such thing as a free blonde.

   2. Major color corrections require a seasoned professional with years of chemistry experience.

   3. I am meant to keep my natural hair color.

Have you ever had a catastrophic hair disaster, or did you actually manage to survive a trip to a beauty school unscathed? My advice: STAY AWAY!

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