I'm cheap.

This month I decided to forgo my salon cut and color. For one thing, I like my long hair right now. I changed the part to the right side a couple of months ago and it's made a surprisingly big difference (to me. I don't think anybody else noticed, which is fine), and other than the creepy crawly gray hairs, I'm pretty satisfied. Sure, I probably need a trim, but let's put it off awhile. I usually let my girl trim me up about an inch, but I actually like my hair right now. That in itself is so rare that to mess with it seems unwise. It has been on my mind that perhaps my girl has been doing my color a tiny bit too light, too, so, I figured I could do it myself, instead of forking over $90 (cut, color, plus tip - she's a very nice girl). If the color was wrong I'd have no one to blame but myself, and only be out a few bucks.

I've colored my own hair exactly twice, with one good and one bad outcome. The bad outcome: the color I chose (on purpose; I was... trying something) was too burgundy, and I hated it (I also ruined the shower curtain and my favorite flannel shirt, in the process. It's a good thing grunge is dead). I let it grow out a little and then I went and had it corrected. Now, I know lots of people successfully dye their own hair all the time (my mother-in-law; my friend's wife, who uses one of those complicated caps and some kind of knitting needle-like tool to do her highlights, and her blond hair is gorgeous and natural looking and has depth; my friend Missy who had pink, platinum, black hair in high school) but like wearing makeup, this is one of those girly skills I just never cared about learning. Also, why do something yourself when you can pay an expert to do it? And my girl at the salon gives excellent scalp massages!

(Interestingly, my mom, who has never colored her hair, and has gorgeous salt and pepper locks, advocates against coloring it, but, when I was a little girl and she was the age I am now, used to pay me a penny for every gray hair I could find. I don't think I have more grays than she did then, but mine are not as evenly dispersed as hers were. They seem to find my part, whichever side it's on, a nice fertile place to grow, and then they like to hide in little thatches along the crown of my head. Dammit, I'm too young to look like the mom at the end of "Poltergeist.")

Anyway, I decided that I've read lots of novels where the heroine or hero or serial killer goes on the lam (it's my favorite scene in "The Outsiders"), buys a bottle of cheap color, and colors their own hair in the gas station bathroom using cold water and paper towels, and it always sounds pretty simple. Why do I have to make such a big deal out of little things? If Ponyboy and Johnnycake could do it, so can I, right, in the comfort of my own messy bathroom?

Sunday was a bona fide slug day for me: I slept in, read, played on the computer, and watched a movie. I never got dressed in actual clothes. I didn't even put on a bra (a sign that I really mean to just slum around the house all day), I didn't take a shower (slugs don't bathe!), and so when I got up (late) on Monday, my hair was nice and dirty, the way I was told it should be (where I learned this, I don't know, but it's one of those rules that may or may not be true that stick around in my head, like "never paint a room when it's raining"). Patrick wasn't feeling well so he stayed in bed most of the day, and I trucked off into the bathroom to spend some time with my hair.

I suppose that a smart person would've spent some time on the Internet, searching for the best brand of color to purchase, or barring that, would've taken an informal poll of her friends (I'm sure Facebook would've been an excellent tool for this), but I didn't feel like bothering people or reading stuff, so when we went to Walgreens on Friday night, I looked around at all the boxes and... picked one based on the commercials - Garnier Fructis. What can I say? I like Sarah Jessica Parker. (The successful time I did it myself, I used Clairol Perfect 10, and while it was perfect, and easy, the Garnier Fructis was on sale, and so was about half the price.) All the time I was contemplating this choice, Patrick was buying Zicam and Doritos (super combination, no?). Since my complaint was that my last shade was too light, I decided to go with "Sweet Cola," which on the box I picked up, I swear was described as "dark brown," or maybe "darkest brown;" however, the website is calling it "soft black." The next darkest color ("Dark Brown") didn't have as sexy of a name (did they just give up?), so I bypassed it. I'm not sure what "soft black" is meant to convey. Anyway, perhaps this was a mistake, but when I looked at the swatches on the box (the "if your hair is... your results will be..." section), it seemed like the best bet. Early on Monday afternoon, I wrapped an old towel around me, banished the kitty from the bathroom, and got to work. It seemed to go fine (despite forgetting to add the "oil" to the color and creme until it was time to do my whole head), but I'm not sure: I think it's possible I've gone too dark.

What do you think? This is a terrible cell phone photo (could I be any more googly-eyed?), and my friend Andrea claims I look "va-va-voom," whatever that means (I think it means, shut up you big dork, your hair looks the same as it always does), but I don't know. I feel a little self-conscious, especially since the girl at Chipotle who made my burrito called me Miss, and then the guy who rang me up called me "Ma'am."

You may have noticed that the sweater I'm wearing has a hole in it. For some reason, I just love this sweater. It was the only thing I considered wearing on this drizzly day. Maybe it makes my hair look less... "soft black" and more "Sweet Cola."