Chaetochromophobia - A Story of Recovery

My husband and I disagree on the degree to which everyday things must be perfect.  We were married for about 3 years before Doug let me hang pictures without his oversight and indispensible help.  Since moving to Union City I can load the dishwasher without having him reload it.  Shopping is not something we enjoy doing with each other.  I find something that is “good enough” rather quickly but my husband engages in real-time research checking out all possible prices and models before the optimal decision can be made.   Going clothes shopping with him is very…uh, let’s just say I need a Starbucks Frappuccino® and lots of dark chocolate. 

Because I really love my husband, I never go with him to Costco or Sam’s Club.  Going in with a list and buying only those items ruins the entire Disneyland experience for him.  At this point if you are identifying more with my husband you will want to stop reading here. 

When it comes to coloring my hair I am also a “good enough” girl.   About 15 years ago, when I decided that a small bit of grey was not attractive in my nearly-black hair, I paid to have my hair colored.  After years of sitting in the salon chair mostly waiting for the color to take, I started taking detailed mental notes and asking copious questions.   Eventually I decided to give supermarket boxed hair color a try. 

Although it just did not look that hard at the beauty parlor, I still had to conquer my fear of getting the color really wrong.  The boxed hair color experiment worked out reasonably well, even if I now had black-black hair.  The price was right and, at least, I did not have to spend hours confined to the beauty parlor chair. 

But at some point, as the grey hairs began to increase, I needed to switch to a color that was lighter than my natural hair–not a darker color.   Actually I should have been doing that all along, in which case I could have skipped the whole gothic look.  But somehow I did not connect those dots.  

Several months ago, I got the idea that I would highlight my own hair, to make up for past hair coloring sins.  After excellent instructions from the helpful and knowledgeable staff at the local beauty supply, I left with the best hair products one can buy in Union City:  the infamous highlight “cap” and that crochet-like instrument of torture that is used to pry clumps of hair through the “wanna-be” holes in the cap.   I could not wait to get started. 

Once at home, on went the cap.  After 2 hours of literally pulling my hair (ok, through the holes in the cap) I called a neighbor for help on the back part of my hair.  Another 2 hours later we were done—with the cap part anyway.  Little did I know that it was possible to experience tedium beyond housework!  The only problem was that almost all of my hair was now pulled through the cap.  We did not know that one only uses the big holes or the little holes—not both.

Next I carefully painted the bleaching solution from the bottom of my hair strands up roots to get that natural look.  I was prepared to keep the bleach on for 40 min, at 20 min I went to check my hair.  I was more than surprised to see my once black hair now bright orange and a variety of shades of bright orange at that. I quickly washed out the bleach, dried my hair thoroughly with a hair dryer, and then put the golden brown color on the upper half of my hair.  I ran out of golden brown so I had to use a different darker color on the underneath part of my hair.  Amazingly my hair turned out just fine and I was pleased to see how much the natural movement of the hair itself and the gradations of color forgive a whole host of errors and inexperience. 

Since that time I have nearly perfected the whole process.  I color my roots every 2-3 weeks depending on my demanding social calendar.  I only apply highlights every 6-8 weeks.  To apply the highlights I do not use the cap--no cap ever again.  I mix up the bleach and paint it on my hair with an art & crafts paintbrush (not a hair dye brush).  I stroke in the stinky goo in the front of my hair and enlist Doug’s help to stripe the back.  If he is not available, I just do it myself without looking.  Everything else proceeds as before. 

Nancy is shown here taking a snapshot of the  

hair-bleach painting stage.

In the off-chance there are women out there with hair-color-phobia (chaeto-chromo-phobia) there is hope and there is much forgiveness.  If at first you don’t succeed try, try again.  You can always fix hair color, really.  And it is only hair, right?  It grows back.  Well for some of us.  There could be some guys still reading this article.  If so, the methods described work perfectly well for adding in highlights to guy hair, too. 

In the future plan I plan leave the bleach in for 30 min.  I look forward to so much more gray hair as it bleaches to a lovely strawberry blond--my husband loves that color!   My cost is about less than the half the price of a box of supermarket hair color each time I color my hair.  And by the way, if your hairdresser “weaves” in 3 colors or pulls through a cap—make sure you give him/her a BIG tip.