Hair Disaster
I knew when I left for Mongolia that my hair might be a problem. I consulted with my beautician, Erin, before leaving America about what I should do with my hair while I was here. She told me she was sure the country wasn’t so remote and impoverished that they wouldn’t be able to work with my pale-colored, fine hair. However, we agreed that I should leave my hair alone and let it grow, trimming it occasionally. I did that for the first five months I was here. By late October, I was bored with my brownish-blondish-longish-shortish hair “style” and decided to do something with it. I wanted my blonde hair back and was looking for a style like Cameron Diaz in Something About Mary.
Amaraa took me to the salon I had had the most luck with, Seoul Salon. My friend Puuje had set me up with a hair dresser who had done a nice trim two months earlier for me. I sat down with Amaraa and began to flip through style magazines. I found a similar style to Ms Diaz and showed him, and then I told him to ask her if she thought the color was too light for me. She seemed indifferent but told Amaraa it would be fine. It’s worthy to note that she didn’t speak a lick of English.
She escorted me to the washing room where she shampooed and conditioned my normal hair for the last time. After the scrubbing, we went back to the salon area and she started to cut my hair. I thought this was strange because normally the hair dresser will color and then cut the hair. As she was cutting, Amaraa was also getting his hair cut. When he finished, he came out and I mentioned to him that I did want my hair colored, which would be Mistake number one. He told her this, and she told him that coloring my hair like that would damage my hair. I told him that she should find another way to lighten my hair, perhaps highlights, because I wanted to be blonde again. I told him to tell her I trusted her. Mistake number two. He passed all this information along to her. He then fetched his coat and told me he would return in an hour or so.
I sat in the chair waiting while she mixed up what I assumed would be highlight mixture. Had I known she was planning to chemically bleach my hair not once, but twice, I would have run screaming from the salon right then.
By the time I was on to the fact she was bleaching my hair, it was too late. The first round of bleach wasn’t successful. It turned my hair a nasty shade of orangish-yellow. About that time, Amaraa walked in. I told him that what she had done was not good and she had possibly ruined my hair. By this time she had thoroughly applied the second coat and got me set up under the super heater to finish frying my hair. I could feel my scalp burning; whether it was the chemicals or the heat I’m still not sure.
When she removed me from the heat some thirty minutes later, she took me and washed my hair again. I returned to my throne in front of her mirror and looked in horror at the white color of my hair. It was the most hideous thing I had seen since I totally screwed my hair up in 1999. That event had resulted in me dying my hair black.
Either way, there it was. I couldn’t go back. The bleached look was here to stay. As she began to blow dry my crispy hair, I dared myself to touch it. It felt like straw. I felt a big fat tear welling up in my eye and couldn’t believe I was about to cry over my stupid hair. The tear rolled down my cheek as she yanked on my tender scalp with her pick comb. She was chattering away with Amaraa and he was asking me what she should do since I was so unhappy.I really didn’t want her to do anything more to my hair. She had done enough work as it was.
It’s bad enough that Amaraa had to see this disaster. He brought his best friend, Deegii, who also brought his girlfriend. Finally, Amaraa’s middle brother, Altaa, strolled in. Everyone got to see my heinous hair.
She finished up her work and I was fighting back tears. The worst of the situation was the salon’s policy states if the customer doesn’t like the hair color or cut, the beautician will work for two months with no salary or she will be fired. The thought of that made me sick, and I really had to choke back my tears. I didn’t want this poor girl to lose her job because I was being a lame-o, although a few more months of practice might do her some good. So, we paid the boss lady and walked out of the shop. I put my stocking cap on as soon as possible. I wanted to crawl in a hole. Instead, Amaraa told me it looked pretty. It was certainly blonde!
When we arrived at Dunka and Tsegei’s house, I wouldn’t take my hat off. Amaraa thought I was being goofy. Altaa agreed with me that it was a bad color. It was a cute cut, but a bad color. I showed Tsegei and she didn’t think it was the best color for me, either. She did think that it looked healthy – amazing enough, my hair didn’t lose its shine.
The following day I went to the Sky Shop and found what I thought would be the closest color to my original color of “dish water blonde” as Mom always called it. I found the appropriate shade, a German brand that translated from the German Hell-Asche (really!) to Ash-Blonde in English. It couldn’t be any more hellish than my white ‘do.
In the end, I had to apply the color twice for it to take effect. The first round of Hellasche was only enough to make it a greenish-grey color, especially around my face. The second round of color took nicely, though I thought Helluvalotdarker than Blonde would have been a more accurate name than Ashblonde. I’m sure the makers didn’t figure the user had strip-bleached her hair twice before applying.
Now it has been two weeks since this hair nightmare began. My Hellasche is fading out even though I wash my hair every other day (in part to prevent this color loss, also in part because the water is still a pain in the ass – scalding hot or freezing cold on a daily basis). I’m sure I will need to re-invest in the Do-it-yourself Hellasche color kit soon. On the positive side, the cut she gave me is cute. It has a slight resemblance to Ms Diaz in Something About Mary. My students all say my hair looks better than it did before break started. I look forward to meeting my hair dresser, Erin, back in the States as soon as I arrive in June. I miss you girl!
Amaraa took me to the salon I had had the most luck with, Seoul Salon. My friend Puuje had set me up with a hair dresser who had done a nice trim two months earlier for me. I sat down with Amaraa and began to flip through style magazines. I found a similar style to Ms Diaz and showed him, and then I told him to ask her if she thought the color was too light for me. She seemed indifferent but told Amaraa it would be fine. It’s worthy to note that she didn’t speak a lick of English.
She escorted me to the washing room where she shampooed and conditioned my normal hair for the last time. After the scrubbing, we went back to the salon area and she started to cut my hair. I thought this was strange because normally the hair dresser will color and then cut the hair. As she was cutting, Amaraa was also getting his hair cut. When he finished, he came out and I mentioned to him that I did want my hair colored, which would be Mistake number one. He told her this, and she told him that coloring my hair like that would damage my hair. I told him that she should find another way to lighten my hair, perhaps highlights, because I wanted to be blonde again. I told him to tell her I trusted her. Mistake number two. He passed all this information along to her. He then fetched his coat and told me he would return in an hour or so.
I sat in the chair waiting while she mixed up what I assumed would be highlight mixture. Had I known she was planning to chemically bleach my hair not once, but twice, I would have run screaming from the salon right then.
By the time I was on to the fact she was bleaching my hair, it was too late. The first round of bleach wasn’t successful. It turned my hair a nasty shade of orangish-yellow. About that time, Amaraa walked in. I told him that what she had done was not good and she had possibly ruined my hair. By this time she had thoroughly applied the second coat and got me set up under the super heater to finish frying my hair. I could feel my scalp burning; whether it was the chemicals or the heat I’m still not sure.
When she removed me from the heat some thirty minutes later, she took me and washed my hair again. I returned to my throne in front of her mirror and looked in horror at the white color of my hair. It was the most hideous thing I had seen since I totally screwed my hair up in 1999. That event had resulted in me dying my hair black.
Either way, there it was. I couldn’t go back. The bleached look was here to stay. As she began to blow dry my crispy hair, I dared myself to touch it. It felt like straw. I felt a big fat tear welling up in my eye and couldn’t believe I was about to cry over my stupid hair. The tear rolled down my cheek as she yanked on my tender scalp with her pick comb. She was chattering away with Amaraa and he was asking me what she should do since I was so unhappy.I really didn’t want her to do anything more to my hair. She had done enough work as it was.
It’s bad enough that Amaraa had to see this disaster. He brought his best friend, Deegii, who also brought his girlfriend. Finally, Amaraa’s middle brother, Altaa, strolled in. Everyone got to see my heinous hair.
She finished up her work and I was fighting back tears. The worst of the situation was the salon’s policy states if the customer doesn’t like the hair color or cut, the beautician will work for two months with no salary or she will be fired. The thought of that made me sick, and I really had to choke back my tears. I didn’t want this poor girl to lose her job because I was being a lame-o, although a few more months of practice might do her some good. So, we paid the boss lady and walked out of the shop. I put my stocking cap on as soon as possible. I wanted to crawl in a hole. Instead, Amaraa told me it looked pretty. It was certainly blonde!
When we arrived at Dunka and Tsegei’s house, I wouldn’t take my hat off. Amaraa thought I was being goofy. Altaa agreed with me that it was a bad color. It was a cute cut, but a bad color. I showed Tsegei and she didn’t think it was the best color for me, either. She did think that it looked healthy – amazing enough, my hair didn’t lose its shine.
The following day I went to the Sky Shop and found what I thought would be the closest color to my original color of “dish water blonde” as Mom always called it. I found the appropriate shade, a German brand that translated from the German Hell-Asche (really!) to Ash-Blonde in English. It couldn’t be any more hellish than my white ‘do.
In the end, I had to apply the color twice for it to take effect. The first round of Hellasche was only enough to make it a greenish-grey color, especially around my face. The second round of color took nicely, though I thought Helluvalotdarker than Blonde would have been a more accurate name than Ashblonde. I’m sure the makers didn’t figure the user had strip-bleached her hair twice before applying.
Now it has been two weeks since this hair nightmare began. My Hellasche is fading out even though I wash my hair every other day (in part to prevent this color loss, also in part because the water is still a pain in the ass – scalding hot or freezing cold on a daily basis). I’m sure I will need to re-invest in the Do-it-yourself Hellasche color kit soon. On the positive side, the cut she gave me is cute. It has a slight resemblance to Ms Diaz in Something About Mary. My students all say my hair looks better than it did before break started. I look forward to meeting my hair dresser, Erin, back in the States as soon as I arrive in June. I miss you girl!
posted by sheridan | 7:49 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home