My adventures without eyebrows and other appearance related disasters.

This is me, pointing out my newly bleached hair for my mother (taken at work in the bathroom, don't make fun of me). For years, she insisted that I would make a perfect platinum blonde and I didn't believe her for the longest time. It wasn't until the summer where I was going to move to where I am now with my editor that I finally caved and bleached it all the way.

When I started high school, I had long blonde hair with no bangs. I had cut them into kind of the shape the are pictured above close to the end of my freshman year. At the start of my junior year I chopped off all my lovely locks of hair an had a fluffy pixie cut. There, my hair turned red, and daaaaaaaaaaamn did I look good as a redhead (just sayin'). My hair grew out little and I let the sides (near my ears) grow longer than the rest. It was a very good style for my and I loved it, sometimes I miss it, but I am ready for long hair again. Two years later it was just below my shoulders and that was when I bleached it. 

This was the start of the worst years of my hair's life.

Platinum blonde wasn't good enough, I wanted my hair to be WHITE! You know, like old lady white. I was going to look so awesome too. Turns out, if you bleach your hair more than once a month (or once every 5 months, not counting taking care of your roots) your hair gets fried. But that wasn't the worst of it. I managed to keep my lovely 'white' hair in decent condition until, while helping my parents move across country and going through a million swimming pools and the ocean, my hair began to LITERALLY flake off. We had just come back from the beach and I was brushing my freshly washed hair (it was dry by then) when I noticed that it was shredding. My shoulders were covered in 5mm pieces of hair. I was horrified. It was bad enough that the ends of my hair was green from swimming pools, but now I had to get it all cut off! First, I tried dying it back to red, then going to a salon to get it cut. The lady did an ok job, but for the next year and a half my hair was impossible to deal with. One of the salons that I frequented referred to me as the girl with the hair that turned into seaweed, and they were totally right! Last fall, right before I had to give a speech for a class, I went to a different salon where I was given the style I have now. I told the man who cut my hair to 'take off what you have to' and he did one hell of a job. The first few inches of my hair were cut to just below my ears, and the rest was layered down. I loved it! The reason I have kept this style besides my sister teasing me by saying its a mullet, is because I can pull the longer parts behind and hide them under all the shorter pieces. It looks like I have that cute, boyish haircut, but I can 'release the mane' as soon as I want to have longer hair. So, as my hair kept growing, I still needed someone to cut it. On THREE separate occasions I went to stylists and asked them to trim the dead bits and they all were too afraid to trim the shorter layers. It frustrated me because it was in the shorter layers that I had the most trouble. When my hair was even the tiniest bit wet, it was impossible to deal with, and felt a lot like seaweed. A few months ago I finally had enough and with the help of a straight razor (which is now my best friend) I 'shaved' off all the dead bits. Suddenly, my hair felt so much better, and I was so much happier with it.

So, coming back from our trip last week, I realized that I not only needed to dye my roots (it looks really bad if I don't ever month or so) but it was time to trim my bangs (when they are past my nose I always cut them back to the top of my nose). So, being the somewhat impulsive person I am, I waddled down to the grocery store and bought myself some (good quality, because I didn't want to make the same mistake again) hair dye. I came home and bleached my hair while preparing to write my post about wandering through the desert.  

Now, when you bleach your hair and have dark eyebrow, it looks rather weird. I don't know why, but it does, ok? So, (and yes I know it's dangerous) I usually (and carefully) apply a little amount on my eyebrows. 

This time, I really messed it up. Over my right eyebrow there was a huge spot that was completely bleached, while the rest and the left eyebrow as well was completely unaffected. I tried trimming the bleached spot off, but I was extremely unsuccessful. So after a lot of careful consideration over the whole day, I decided to start from scratch.

So, now I have no eyebrows. Deal with it.

Over the next month or so they will grow back, and I know it will look silly and awful the more and more it grows.  Oh well. The price you pay to look fabulous. 

Honestly, what I did was this http://youtu.be/jSgMr1vss1M (skip ahead to 4:17 to get the to part that relates) once we (my editor and I) realized that it was what I had done, we about died laughing. 

My mother (who no doubt is screaming as she is reading this) always reminds me of when I was five. . . maybe. . .? 

Ok, I was young. Very young. I had been wanting to have my bangs (or maybe all my hair) cut, but my mother was busy at the time and said I had to wait. A few hours later she found my in our playroom (I think) with a pair of children's craft scissors and most of my hair all chopped off. "You said I had to wait so I just did it myself" is (I think) what I told to her. 

Oh the amount of trouble I got myself into as a child. . . 

She, of course, had to fix the massacre that my hair had turned into, and I don't remember if picture day was not too far away. Every time I tell her that I have had a hair cut, I am sure she has horrific flashbacks to that moment, which I always have to calm her and remind her that I'm an adult (PLEASE *poses with arms up*) and I know how to use a pair of scissors.

Being the fabulous adult I am, I too got to experience this 'terror' when my editor told me (while I was at work) that he had tried to trim his own hair (because I didn't cut it short enough). This is what my family would call situational karma. The same feeling of panic rushed over me and the shift seemed to go on forever, knowing that I faced a great horror at home. LUCKILY, he wasn't able to do too much damage and I was able to salvage what little hair he had left.

Ironic, isn't it? (does that count as irony. . . I'm not really sure. . .)

Ok. You wanted proof, here is your proof!

Here is the look I displayed tonight. (Yes, I'm severely cross eyed. Deal with it. I have). Those eyebrows are drawn on (not too bad if I say so myself). Gold and green eyeshadow with brown mascara.

Luckily, I've got really bad vision so I get to wear these huge,nblue-tinted, Ted-Bundy-esque (as my mother would call them) glasses which I can hide behind.

See? It's not so bad (it totally is bad). 

I can still show a little emotion even without eyebrows. (Mostly concern, anger, surprise, confusion, sarcasm, and doubt).

I really do love these glasses. For the longest time (since I was little, really) I had tried to get smaller and more subtle glasses (as long as they were green) so that I wouldn't be teased. Now I just don't care, and you know what, big glasses are now back 'in.' #originalhipster #diditbeforeitwascool

The blue tint is because I spent a lot time I front of some kind of screen, and my eyes have become extremely sensitive to certain lights. Now fluorescent light, natural sunlight, and any kind of screen doesn't hurt me (as much) to look at! Yay!

Ok. Mock me all you want. But if you see me, don't mention anything about my non-existent eyebrows (unless the makeup has gotten messed up and I need to fix it).

This might count as tomorrow's post because I have Bioshock Infinite that needs me to play it. 

No seriously. I need to do this. Is important to my life! *huffy teenage sigh/gasp/breathy irritated sound*