I walk into the store with my head high and my shoulders back. I walk down one isle and don’t shy away from people looking in my direction. My walk is steady, but my heart is racing. A pick up a box labeled “FIRE RED HAIR DYE.” I walk straight to the counter and slide the box toward the cashier. When she asks how my day is going I respond with a smile and a “It’s good! How about yours?” She seems almost frightened by my enthusiasm so I just hand her the money, take the box of hair dye, and exit the store with my head down. I try not to let that awkward encounter ruin my good mood.
When I get home I realize that I had been smiling the whole time in the car. I was so excited that my parents had finally let me dye my hair. It’s the last day of summer and I was ready to go back to school with a cool, new hairstyle. I am going to be a highschooler this year and I feel so grown-up. I didn’t expect everything to go horribly wrong.
I went into the bathroom and put on gloves so that I wouldn’t dye my hands red as well. I would be so embarrassed, I thought. I pull out my phone and begin to watch a video on youtube about how to dye your hair. My parents are still at work and my mom had told me to wait for her so that she could help me, but I am so excited and I can’t wait. I struggle a little putting the dye into my long hair. The box says to leave the dye in my hair for 30 to 45 minutes before washing it. During this time, I think a lot about how I would like my hair to be shorter. My hair has been long all through elementary and middle school. My thoughts are cut short when my scalp starts to itch and burn.
I run into the bathroom and turn on the lights over the mirror. I run my fingers through my newly dyed hair and to my surprise a clump of it is pulled from my head. Some more of it falls onto the floor. I shriek and dart to where I left my phone. I frantically call my mother, not knowing what else to do.
It’s now been a couple hours since I dyed my hair and there is nothing that I can do to fix my hair. My hair cannot be fixed because it is all gone. The dye burned all my hair off and dyed my scalp temporarily a bright pink color. I now understand why they called it “FIRE RED.”
When I get home I realize that I had been smiling the whole time in the car. I was so excited that my parents had finally let me dye my hair. It’s the last day of summer and I was ready to go back to school with a cool, new hairstyle. I am going to be a highschooler this year and I feel so grown-up. I didn’t expect everything to go horribly wrong.
I went into the bathroom and put on gloves so that I wouldn’t dye my hands red as well. I would be so embarrassed, I thought. I pull out my phone and begin to watch a video on youtube about how to dye your hair. My parents are still at work and my mom had told me to wait for her so that she could help me, but I am so excited and I can’t wait. I struggle a little putting the dye into my long hair. The box says to leave the dye in my hair for 30 to 45 minutes before washing it. During this time, I think a lot about how I would like my hair to be shorter. My hair has been long all through elementary and middle school. My thoughts are cut short when my scalp starts to itch and burn.
I run into the bathroom and turn on the lights over the mirror. I run my fingers through my newly dyed hair and to my surprise a clump of it is pulled from my head. Some more of it falls onto the floor. I shriek and dart to where I left my phone. I frantically call my mother, not knowing what else to do.
It’s now been a couple hours since I dyed my hair and there is nothing that I can do to fix my hair. My hair cannot be fixed because it is all gone. The dye burned all my hair off and dyed my scalp temporarily a bright pink color. I now understand why they called it “FIRE RED.”
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