Thank you for your comments, and for indulging me in a little self-pity. Trust that I don’t fall into it often.

Anyway, enough of that.

So about two weeks ago, I got a bug up my ass and decided that I had to go blond. Not just blond, but platinum blond, which is probably the hardest shade to achieve, particularly if you’re sporting dark red hair, which is probably the hardest shade to get rid of.

I have a sick addiction to hair dye and I cannot be rehabilitated. I cannot have the same color for more than six months without lusting after something new. People, I am Lady Clairol on crack.

No matter how much I know about hair, and believe me, I have learned quite a lot during my twenty-five years of hairdye addiction, I have consistently flown in the face of hair health and common sense and done what I should not do, which is over bleach, over process and do shit that is best left to the professionals.

The really stupid thing is that I have a really talented friend who does my cuts and color for free, yet I took on this undertaking myself so as not to bother her with what I knew would be an exhaustive process. (Plus I knew it would be an interesting challenge. I won’t lie.)

I wound up bleaching my shit three times, coloring twice, and using a toner once. My hair, which is strong like de bull, is actually still healthy and free of breakage, but my poor sensitive scalp actually is sporting scabs. Scabs.

Yeah, I know. Gross.

I went through shades of horrid orange and banana yellow, but now my hair is actually a nice-toned blond – not quite platinum, as you can see, except for the roots, but pretty close. The picture makes it look sort of yellowish, but it really isn’t. Once I color again when it’s time to do my roots, I will have achieved platinum.

The only bad thing about the blond is that it makes me look even whiter.

I cannot take a non-blurry photo with my cell. I just cannot.

Victory is mine.

Then I swear I’m going to leave it alone (except for touch-ups) for at least a year, and I’m going to take care of it with protein conditioners, and I’m not going to blow-dry it, and I’m going to be good.

You read it right here.

And again, I urge you, don’t try this at home. I received constant advice from a long-time professional via text as far as removing the orange/yellow, and I think weaker hair than mine would have fallen right out.

That, plus scalp burns are not fun.

In other news, the J-Man’s grades are as follows: four As, two Bs, and a C. I am so happy with this stunning turnaround I could poop my pants. Just a few weeks ago there were Ds and an F and I was livid and things were icky and and tense and horrible. Go, J-Man. Rock on with your bad self.

In still other news, things I am a little bit obsessed with include: reruns of Will and Grace, Say Yes to the Dress, Quaker Oatmeal Squares, ruby red grapefruit juice, re-checking my kid’s grades on the parent spy system, cranberry mandarin candles. The TranceCave II reeks of cranberry mandarin.

I had some kind of super seizure last night and royally screwed up my back, so today’s agenda includes lying down, some sitting, a little more lying down, and maybe some groaning.

Happy Sunday.

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