What the hell am I going to do?
Disaster has struck!
Not a bad hair day, but a bad hair monstrous screw up.
Let me backtrack.
For some reason I thought brunette would be a nice change from sort of ginger faded out mouse.
I paid for my box of home hair colour. Yes, I know you should never buy home hair colour, but I did.
I got home to discover the shop owner had taken out the colour vial to stop shoplifting. I went back and was handed the colour.
I didn’t get brunette colouring.
I got black.
As the ace of spades.
I only found that out after colouring my hair.
Now I look like Morticia Adams!
My husband laughed.
My eldest son guffawed.
My daughter exclaimed, “Mummy’s gone Goth! Don’t worry Mummy, you can die it blonde then dye it red and it won’t be so bad.”
I have to go to work tomorrow.
And I can’t afford a hairdresser right now. (Donations welcome).
So, I am torn between donning an Islamic head scarf, chopping it all off, or just phoning in sick.
Oh the utter humiliation of a dye job gone wrong.