Created a mess, and then had to live with the consequences; some messes exact a lifetime, others a few days, weeks or months if we’re lucky.
My divorce years ago was quite painful, undoubtedly more so for my kids. And I have no idea what I was thinking (I use that verb quite freely in this context) when I concluded a perm would give my hair more body.
Hair seems to be a recurring theme when it comes to my messes. The color of my hair is a particular mess right now, now that the grey has reared its ugly head. I’d be happy with the salt and pepper version of grey, but of course that usually requires one start with the pepper before life sprinkles in some salt for a little extra seasoning. I’ve always been a strawberry blond. Salt and pepper is never going to happen. Besides, I’m supposed to restrict my salt intake, so I guess I should curb the wishful thinking too.
Suffice it to say, I’ve had my share of disasters and the tears that go along with it when it comes to coloring my hair, several at my own hand, just as many at the hand of a professional obviously as incompetent as me.
My messes, hair or otherwise though, pale in comparison to some created by the big league players, particularly one I had a chance to visit recently.
At least now his messes won’t be my messes too. In fact, I heard that without his usual barber for the next 14 years, his roots may grow out grey. Kinda puts it all in perspective, if you know what I mean.