Just Call Me Lollipop Spice

Dear Professional Hair Stylists:

Please accept this blog post as my sincere apology for my latest act of arrogance, which involved a blatant disregard for and lack of respect of your profession.

I should have known better to have thought that a few bottles of chemicals sold in a drug store would bring me closer in my quest to look like Faith Hill. I've been told that a canyon-sized chasm exists between the difference of professional hair color and box-products. In my heart, I knew that to be true...but those women on the DIY product boxes are so very pretty. With lustrous locks and faces a glow, models for Loreal, Nice N Easy, and others silently lured me to give it a try. Like my ancestor Eve, who bit into the ripe forbidden fruit held by the serpent, I tumbled into a pit of temptation.

Sadly, this is not my first offense. It was more than ten years ago that I donned green and then purple hair due to more experimentation. At that time, I promised myself that I'd never travel that road agin...but alas, I did. The results? Painful.

Now, my sweet-hearted, candy-loving, four-year-old daughter shares a different opinion. She took one look at my peachy locks and exclaimed, "Mommy! You look so beautiful. Your hair looks like a lollipop!" It was meant with love, so I smiled and secretly thought "No darling, mommy looks like a rejected Spice Girl."

So now, I sit with more color on my hair. Now hold on...I am in deed sincere in my apology, but with the advice of a professional stylist, I am trying to fix it on my own...if it fails, I promise to contact someone with a degree in cosmotology to correct my bright-colored folicles.

For now, I'd like to leave you with some evidence you can use so sway customers from making the same mistakes that I did.

Sincerely,

Mrs. N, also known as Lollipop Spice