Quick—see if you can name this common object:If you said steel wool, you are right. If you said Joni’s hair after a total disaster at the salon, you would also be right. (And now when I hear about someone calling S.O.S. I'm going to think they're in a panic because their hair now looks like an S.O.S. pad!)
I went in to get some lowlights put into my light blonde hair, and when the colorist washed it out, my entire head of hair was now charcoal gray with black streaks. She said, "It will lighten a bit each time you wash it." Honey, I'd have to wash it every day for a century, and it still wouldn't make it blonde.
St. Bob said he could turn me upside down and use me to scrub pots. I glared at him. “Just try.”
My curls actually did resemble this wire scrubber:Or the sludge you see on the roadside during winter: Or the beard of physicist James Clerk Maxwell: Crossed with Rasputin: And the Bride of Frankenstein:
Forget COVID. I'll have to quarantine just to hide my hair!
This all happened after cancer and chemo. When you lose all your hair, it grows in a different texture and color. In my case, it grew in even curlier and dark brown! Yet my eyebrows stayed blonde.
Did I find someone to correct the situation? Yes. In steps. Hallelujah. And, now that I’m on my way back to being myself, I have to admit that streaky charcoal hair is better than no hair at all.