The Hair Dye
Kat Spitzer The Happy Hypochondriac www.happyhypochondriac.com
Today I decided to wash that gray right out of my hair. It comes in 100% gray now and I'm only thirty four. I'm just not ready to give up my raven hair quite yet. So I donned my little rubber gloves, mixed my toxic formula and proceeded to apply one single blob to my most noticeable gray part line, when a drop of it flew into my left eye, sending me into a shocked spasm of pain and grief. I dropped the little brush applicator (hello, stained counter top) and bent over the sink to throw water into my eye, wailing and moaning. I haven't EVER experienced this kind of pain, and I've had two children. My husband ran in. "What, did you see a spider?" I couldn't find words or even breath to answer him. My actions and noises alerted him quickly to the real, and arguably more severe, problem. He held my hair back like I was a sorority girl on spring break in Mexico. He then consulted the instructions from the box.
"It says if you get any of it in your eye you need to flush it with an abundant amount of lukewarm water...and seek medical advice." What?! Holy crap. I flushed and flushed until my eye could have floated away on its own. When I finally got most of the hydrogen peroxide sting away (it still burns slightly), I looked at myself and saw the lovely vision of a puffy, red eye full of pain staring back at me; abnormal compared to the rest of my face.
An added bonus is that I have to get all gussied up to attend a gala tomorrow night. As a show of support and solidarity, my husband said, "I will wear an eye patch if you have to wear one. It will look like we meant to come dressed as pirates." That's love, because he's not usually into pirates. I actually went on to finish coloring the gray roots. I mean, I might as well finish what I started, right? Even if I go blind in the process.