Last weekend, I had a take-home test to do for my Utah History class. Needless to say, I did just about everything in my power to NOT have to work on it. I woke up on Saturday morning, turned on my computer, typed the heading for the test, and stared at the screen. Then I picked up my phone, texted Dumples, and told her that we should dye my hair that day.
Thirty minutes later, we were on our way to Walmart to get hair dye. My hair was a light brown and I wanted to darken it a few shades to a nice milk chocolate brown, if you will. We found two shades that seemed to be about what I wanted, one with more red in it than the other. Since my hair has a reputation for turning more red than I intend when I dye it, I went for the browner option.
We began to be suspicious of how it would turn out once we began apply the dye to my hair. “You look like a war victim,” Dumples said, and indeed, my head looked like it had suffered some sort of awful casualty and was bleeding profusely.
When I got out of the shower and dried my hair, I will admit, the color was not what I had expected. Instead of a darker brown, my hair had mysteriously turned a lighter red.
[Don’t worry, dearies; it looks better in person.]
Bebe calls me Ariel. She said I look like a Disney princess.
I’ve also been told I look like this:
Epilogue: I did finish my take-home test. Nine delightful pages on the geography of the Wasatch Mountains and non-Mormon immigrants from Switzerland.