I dyed my hair.
I have naturally dirty blond hair and have recently begun growing gray highlights. Yippee Skippee. The result is my hair always looks old. And it flops on top of a very youthful looking face (if I do say so myself).
So I boldly went and had my sister buy me some dye (I’ll pay you back, sis). She’s had some experience in this department (not the grays, but in applying dye) so I chucked the idea of waiting for the 8th day of the week – otherwise known as ‘someday’ - and decided to force her to dye my hair for me.
The color: Amythyst
The place: my bathroom
The time: 3 oclock in the afternoon
The result: my greys are now red! Real Yippee Skippee here!
But I may have jumped the gun just a little. Other than the greys, the rest of my hair stayed pretty much the same color and, with my husband plucking my greys religiously, I didn’t have that many hairs to dye.
And no one can tell that I dyed my hair for the first time in my life.
Since it would be too self seving for me to tell them I dyed my hair and ask if they like it (and not as fullfulling as you would think whcih I learned when I tried to do just that with my parents) I’ve decided to blog about it and tell everyone in the world.
Thank you for your time and attention.

No, this is not a picture of me.