Yeah, I did go to a local beauty school during a time when
my agoraphobia wasn’t so bad and managed to graduate. It wasn’t easy since my
panic attacks kicked back in towards the end of getting all the hours I needed.
Guess you’d say I was a medium functioning agoraphobic at the time. Me, I’d say
I was a high school drop-out looking for something to do with my life because
the local school district didn’t offer home schooling for years 11 & 12 (I
was home schooled from 8 - 10) and my parents weren’t the types to fight the
board about it. I love my parents but they were always wusses when it came to
dealing with anything like that. But, I’m SO lucky ‘cause no matter how screwed
up I got (& still am) they were always there for me and my Mom still is.
Bet you’re wondering just how did I manage to go to beauty school but not to regular school? If not just skip this part, go ahead I won’t get mad. I truly believed there would be less bitchiness going to school with older women than being in high school with all the queens of mean. Little did I know just how bad females of any age can be. Don’t get me wrong there were a lot of really nice people but there were also those few that are never happy unless they can be the center of attention and if that means being mean then that’s what they’ll be. I spent more than a few days in the bathroom in tears but I managed to stick it out ‘cause it was never as bad as high school.
Ok, back to the reason I’m writing about beauty school, and
no I never did get my license because I became completely housebound after
graduating. It was that evil yet scared part of my brain realizing I’d have to
travel a lot further than I was used to and have to take a LOT of tests in a
place I’d never been to. I’m not good with places I don’t know. Rotten bitch
brain just went all idiotic thinking she was saving me but just messed up my
life even more. Guess Pinky-Brain decided after putting in almost 2 years at
school with only minor anxiety why not start having major crazy panic attacks
again. For the next year the only time I went out was when The DBF (that's darling boyfriend in case you didn't know and BTW he now is the DH!) came home from
the Navy and when my Mom threatened no letters or phone calls from him if I
didn’t go to church with her.
I know I’m back off track again. I’m bringing up beauty
school because I cut and color my own hair. I honestly don’t trust anyone else
to do it. The few times I went to a salon I ended up very (no that’s not strong
enough) extremely unhappy. I even left one place in tears. Take for instance
the time I wanted the Meg Ryan cut. You know the one from the 1990’s, it’s
sometimes called a Mom cut now, but it’s still cute. The DH keeps asking me to get
it again (hmmm... do you think he may have a secret crush on Meg?) but since I
have a hard time cutting the back of my hair that short I won’t, plus I really
like my French braids. Anyway, the girl used hair wax for the first time and
really got carried away with it. Since it was in the 90’s outside the salon I’m
sure you can imagine my slowly drooping hair. Plus it took me 3 days to get it
all washed out. Then there was the time I went to a salon that took drop-ins
(I’m not good with appointments, way too much stress). The woman did a decent cut
but since she was also doing another customer with a perm she just handed me a
blow dryer and brush and said, “ Well you know how you want it”. Another
stylist realized what was going on when she finished her customer and insisted
on taking over. No wonder the shop went out of business if they pulled that
kind of shit. Then there were the stylists who looked at the pictures I took in
(I always took a lot of pics just so they’d know exactly what I wanted) and they
still gave me a different and much shorter haircut. I’m truly surprised we’re
not a world of long haired women wearing our hair in buns and braids.
... and here I go again. I just thought you needed some back
story ... no? ... sorry, but it does explain why I do my own hair, it’s not
just the panic attacks. This time I promise to get on with the reason for this
post. The really real reason I’m writing about hair is because I recently
colored my hair and even though I knew, I really did know there was a very good
chance it would happen, my pale blonde hair picked up the orangey gold base
color of the dye. Yeah, I ended up with Trump orange hair. Not a look I wanted
so I washed my hair with the strongest shampoo we had and it softened the color
a bit but now it was a peachy color (you know the fake peach shade not the real
peach fruit color... that would be even worse). I knew I had to wait at least 6
-7 days before I could either re-color or do a peroxide shampoo in hope of
removing some more of the color without damaging my hair further. After 3 days
of ignoring mirrors unless the room was a bit dark the DH let me know it wasn’t
orange or even peach anymore. Guess the shampoo did the trick but talk about
panic attacks! I don’t take any meds for them but I do tend to self medicate
with food. I gained 3 pounds in 3 days over it.
I still don’t like the color
but instead of trying to color over it I’m just living in French braids. I did
stop wearing a hat outside to hide it. It’s a true light blonde with slight
golden highlights now but I won’t be playing with that color again. I know with
so many fun hair colors on the market my hair wouldn’t have been seen as that
bad but I’m not one to try to attract attention. Even peach hair was too much
for me and gave me panic attacks. Should I tell you about the time when I was
in beauty school the hair color teacher turned my bleached hair pink, purple,
blue, green, and peach in various sections from hair dye? No? Yeah I’m having heart
palpations just remembering it because then it all started breaking off, so
let’s just say bye for now I’m heading to my bathroom closet to make sure I
have the right shade of hair color for my next dye job.
