Back When I knew It All

So I have nothing else to blog about so bare with me on this one will ya. I didn't get to dye my hair all growing up, well until I went behind my house hold rules and just did it my self. You know what they say right? That it's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission. And for my mom, I believe that saying very much so. Anyway, one night during my senior year in High School, me and my friend Ashli decide that we're bored and that my hair needed to be dyed. We went to Smith's and found the most pretty ginger brown, herbal essence, box dye we could find and headed back to her house. The back WARNING label specifically said NOT to use on blonde's. Our reasoning to continue forward with this was that I was a dirty dish water blonde and that we would just leave the color in for a bit longer than the box suggested. No big deal right?


WRONG!!!
I looked like I was a big 'ol penny! Ashli started crying, immediately. I didn't cry but I was shaking because we had school the next day and I still had to go home and somehow confront my parents about this. Ashli called her moms hair stylist and she told us that we have to re-dye it with an ash black/gray color. I'm sorry I don't have any pictures handy to post an after shot but it was so dark. I went from dirty dish blonde to ash black in a matter of hours and I think my mom wanted to kill me. They didn't freak out as bad I had thought they would but they hate that I started dying my hair. The hair dying has never stopped either. My dad makes fun of me and my sisters and calls us the "my little pony girls" because we have so many different colors in our hair at any given time. O the good 'ol days huh.