Jem, Jem is my name, no one else is the same Jem is my name!

She stopped at the local dress shop to see if anything new had come in. There were a few new dresses that caught her eye and she decided that the pink one was just right. Little did she know when she bought the cute pink dress that soon her hair would be dyed to match...

Yup, you guessed it, I had a crazy hair experience...I finally gave in and went to a hair salon here. I made it abundantly clear that I wanted highlights and lowlights in the exact same colour that I already had. They didn't understand the concept of lowlights and that should have been my clue to quit while I was ahead...I forged on. I showed them the two colours that I already had, a blond and a brown, and then I explained how to use the foils and to stagger the colours, it was not an easy process. To confuse them even more, I had to show them what a half set would look like... and they still did that wrong. Needless to say it was an adventure from the start.

After I explained everything as clearly as I possibly could a team of three hairstylists (I use that term lightly) started working on my head. They were using the foils like it was the first time they had ever used them and I looked like a topiary tree with tinfoil balls on it by the time they were done. When they had finished their handy work they just disappeared, poof, off to work on other patrons, no timer was set...just me and my sparkly bush head.

A significant amount of time passed before someone came to check on me, and when the woman opened one of the foils she gasped and ran to the back room - never a good sign - she came running back with a towel and another 'hairstylist' and she proceeded to open the top foils and towel off the colour (which at this point was platinum blond, I am talking bad eighties frosted tips craziness!) as the other stylist looked on in horror. So as she frantically wipes my bleached blond locks off, he just stares...I'm thinking maybe I should suggest taking me to the sink to wash the chemicals that are frying my hair to oblivion out but, before I get a chance, they disappear again. At this point I started to get a bit antsy. I asked the 'manager' if maybe I should get the rest of the foils out - he said I needed 5 more minutes...hmm were they hoping that my hair would melt off so I wouldn't see that I looked like a reject from a Sun In commercial?

So, five minutes passed and no one was attending to me I asked again and one of the three stooges came to open my low light foils, a similar scene played out except this time it wasn't a gasp it was a distinct, "Oh!" and the colour was not blond, nor was it brown, it was MAGENTA!! I am talking bright purpley pink! All I could do was laugh.

Anyway, they took me back to the sink and you could tell that they were a bit freaked out. One person would come in and look and say something to the shampoo-er and then leave and someone else would come in. I felt like a new exhibit at the zoo - " And look what we have here folks, a fine specimen, we call here Western girl with freaky pink streaks!" I just lay there with my rock-n-roll hair, thinking about how I was going to have to find a way to tone it down a bit.

Finally, the zoo inspired shampoo session ended and I was unleashed back into the main salon. The main stylist took back over and blew my circa 1985 "Jem and the holograms" hair dry and I left the salon...with a whole new appreciation for the colour pink. Good thing I don't take myself too seriously.