Dumb Blonde

I have been blonde for approximately 14.7 years. I was a believer that Blondes had more fun. After all, do you think that Norma Jean would have turned into Marilyn Monroe had she not dipped her drab brown strands into a pot of platinum dye? Don't think so. But as I have gotten older, my hair has started to show it's age. No, not in the form of gray, but in the form of a horse mane that was in need of some hydration. So I thought it was about time to go little darker with my peroxide infused locks, I have visions of Jennifer Aniston hair in my immediate future. Since Ashley threatened annihilation the last time I went to the salon, I thought it would be smart to go to Wal-Greens to see what they had to offer.

Before: Blonde Ambition

And I came back with a small box of "toasted coconut medium blonde" which, ironically enough, is exactly how I would describe Jennifer Aniston's hair. I brought it home and got right to work. I lathered and waited and rinsed and dried but there are no words to describe the big reveal. Actually there are, and it would be Skanky, Hot Mess, or Craptastic.

Between: Dyed, Fried, and Laid to the Side

My former Scarlett Johansson locks of love were now likened to heavy metals. Literally, 2 inches down from my scalp looked like a shiny penny while the rest of my hair looked like a cascade of silver nickels. I walked out of the bathroom to Ashley where he just responded with a prompt, "Whoa." But I was not deterred. I am a professional who keeps their cool. So I just pulled my metallic hair back and marched right back to Wal-Greens for round two. I came back with "bronze honey dark blonde". Perfect, I think. How can you go wrong with the three metals that represent the Olympic games? You can, and I did. Now my hair was two lovely shades of bronze and gray.

It was time to call in the big dogs. So the next morning I tucked my tail and ran into the Salon down the street. Linda, whom I now refer to as the Hair Messiah, took one look at me and said, "Honey, we have got our work cut out for us." She studies my hair like a surgeon about to perform brain surgery and begins calling out various tints of color to her nimble servants. She whips up her concoction and says, "I hope you're ready for this" before she slathers the goo all over my Olympic mane.

After: The next cast member of "The Jersey Shore"

And while my journey started with the hopes of saving money while creating a sexy version of Rachel from Friends; two hours and $180 dollars later I walked out of the salon looking like Snookie from Jersey Shore. Oy!