The reason you think I'm a Strawberry Blond....

...is because I accidentally keep dying my hair strawberry blond. And by "strawberry blond", I mean orange.

As a poor college student, I refuse to fork over 150+ dollars it takes to maintain my golden locks. So I settle for the 7 dollar box of hair dye at my local Target.

For some reason--be it my cheap hair dye or lack of beautician skills--it never comes out right. EVER.

My first experience was with one of my best friends Angie. I had never dyed my hair before and I always thought people who did it looked soooo coooool. And looking back on it, they were cool because they actually dyed their hair the right color.

Anyway, on my hair's maiden voyage of being killed and bleached by terrible chemicals, my mom was like, "Tell me again why you're dying your hair? If you want highlights, I'll buy them for you. You don't have to do this." She pleaded in a drastic way like I was cutting off my arm or something. I was 19 at the time--and oh-so-wise in the ways of the world--and responded with: "Mom, please. Angie and I have to do it. This is like a right of passage. Everyone dyes their own hair at this age," in a semi-sassy tone that sounded like she should have known better. Duh, mom.

Anyway, I let Angie have free range over my hair. I sat down like a good little guinea pig that I was and let her squirt God-knows-what over my perfectly healthy hair. We were moving a little slow (since it was our first time) and by the time we got to the back of my head, the hair dye had been sitting on my roots for about 15 minutes. The box said, "When you've covered the entire head, wait 20 minutes and then rinse." So we waited another 20 minutes, thus leaving the hair dye on my roots for a grand total of 35 minutes. MISTAKE.

After I rinsed, I was so excited to see the new blond me! I got out of the shower with pure excitement....leaped over to the mirror....and looked at my reflection with horror. My roots were now a beautiful shade of copper. SHIT.

Well, maybe it'll get better once I dry it. So I blew my hair dry, straightened it, and then it was kind-of ok. At least that's what my mom and Angie said. But they were probably trying to make me feel better.

The next day, I walked into the house of the kids I babysit for. They see me and immediately say, "Your hair is orange." They obviously have not matured enough to know that sometimes you need to look people in the eye and lie through your teeth. I laughed, shrugged it off, and said, "Well, that's what you get for dying your hair for 7 dollars."

For the next two weeks, every time we went to the pool, I brought Sun-In hair highlighter and doused my hair with lemon juice hoping that the sun would bleach out my hair to the beautiful blond I wanted to be.

It kind of worked.

So anyway, I dyed my hair again the other night (this is like the 3rd or 4th time by now). And I accidentally left it on the roots for too long again. And it semi-resembles the shade of copper.

So I made my roommate promise that she will never let me dye my own hair again. I have matured (a little) and need to fork over and pay the high price that is Dallas haircare.

So please don't call me a "strawberry blond". Because it's actually copper.