Bad Hair Days Suck...

Heat Miser, aka my twin

On Friday I'm going back to the USET Foundation Headquarters in Gladstone for weekend two of the USEF Dressage Festival of Champions and Selection Trials. Today is Thursday.  My daughter has been nagging at me for some time now that "You need to get your hair done, Mom, your roots are showing."   Well, for some reason this actually took hold in my feeble, stressed out brain and I thought, "By God, yes, I look awful and must rectify the situation  immediately, as clearly the selection of the US dressage team can't happen if my roots are showing!"  (Let's just say work's been crazed, the Boy has had PT three out of every five days, the Daughter had a doctor's appointment, Sug had a re-evaluation with the vet, and yes, by crikey, I do need a glass of wine).
So I did what any insane woman would do.  I bought an at-home hair dye kit, one I've bought before, same brand, color and everything, and dyed my hair.   Bad idea.  Let me just offer a PSA: Never attempt to dye your hair at home, or, if you do, do NOT do it the day before and event or when you have something else to do that day. All the forces in the universe will conspire against you and you will wind up with glow in the dark fuchsia-ish orange hair.  Think Heat Miser, from the holiday movie.

I had to put a hat on, pick up the Boy, figure out if I had time to go out and get another dye to repair the damage, or if I'd have to just deal and go with one of the following quips when the inevitable comments come:

A: My hair color is in support of National Flag Day (today) and our Olympic team.

B. I wanted my hair to match my I ♥ Rafalca red foam finger. (I'm channeling Stephen Colbert's Joe Six-Pack.)

I got the dye, brown this time, did the deed, and NO CHANGE!  WTH???  Emergency measures were needed, so the doctor's appointment got rescheduled (wasn't an emergency, but still, there goes the Mother of the Year award) and I went to the salon for a much needed fix 'er upper.  Luckily, the salon was able to somewhat repair my idiocy.  Instead of resembling Heat Miser, I now resemble Sharon Osborne.

I'm still going to wear a hat at the selection trials.  I don't want the horses or riders to be distracted by the freakish red nimbus surrounding my head.