Bleached Dreads Novelas e Histórias

It was a few hours to the ball and I was getting myself ready. I’d decided I wanted to look totally different so I decided to dye my hair. I had ordered some products and following the instructions, I mixed them and applied them to my hair. I also watched an instructional video online. After about 20-25 minutes, I stood in front of the bathroom sink, my hair covered in a messy blob of bleach. As I rinsed out the bleach, I watched in horror as chunks of my hair fell out. I had been going for a subtle blonde, but it seemed I had gotten the mixture all wrong.

I sat in the salon as Sheila surveyed my hair. "Your hair is healthy and we would be able to dye it. But first we're gonna bleach it. Sounds good?" She said and I nodded. Sheila began working and soon enough she was done. She spun me around on the chair and I looked into the mirror. I gasped when I saw myself. My hair was now blonde and I looked amazing. "You look gorgeous girl." She gushed and I giggled. "Thank you so much." My bouncy blonde curls looked absolutely gorgeous.

“THIS IS JUST like when we were teenagers.” I grin up at Bryce, who scowls because I moved. She has a pair of scissors in one hand and a lock of my hair in the other, and she’s thinning the edges like a professional hairstylist. I’ve bleached my hair to a respectable housewife blond, and now, Bryce’s giving me a shoulder-length layered ‘do. “Remember when you shaved the side of my head and dyed the bangs purple?”

The liquid instantly dissolved the sizzling blood and fused it with the charcoal fibers, transforming the circle in the sketch into a swirling vortex of gold and silver light. "Now, Maya!" Nadia shouted, bracing herself against the desk as the windows buckled inward under the outside pressure. "Do it again!"

I needed to be someone with a rougher background, someone who belonged in that world. I bought a box of hair dye from the drugstore. Platinum blonde, the kind that would completely change how I looked. Back home I spread newspapers on my bathroom floor and read the instructions twice before mixing the chemicals. The process took three hours. First bleaching my natural auburn hair until it was almost white, then applying the blonde color. The smell was awful and burned my eyes but I kept working. When I finally rinsed out the dye and looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.

"Is it even seven in the morning yet?" "Nope. It's 6 am. I'm going to cut my dreads off." She tells me. "You're what?" "I'm cutting my dreadlocks off, off, and I need your help." She says, pulling me up by my arm. "Meg, I don't know the first thing about cutting hair. Plus, you're going to cut it off and instantly reit," it," I told her. "No, I won't. I have had these dreadlocks for five years. It's heavy and kind of unprofessional. I just want a change."

she warned. "I've been shot. I think I can handle a haircut." She started cutting. Long sections of dark hair fell to the cracked linoleum floor, and the man in the mirror began to disappear. "Shorter," I said. "Adrian—" "Shorter. Military short. I need to be unrecognizable." She kept cutting until I looked like a different person—harder, leaner, the kind of man who worked with his hands instead of his brain. "Now the dye," Elena said. She mixed the chemicals in the small sink, and the ammonia smell filled the tiny space. "This will change everything," she said as she worked the dye through my shortened hair.

|ELENA’S POV| I spent the last four days watching YouTube videos on how to bleach my hair by continuously testing it out on the wigs that I brought with me when I traveled down to Orion but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get it right so I ended up braiding my hair into a messy corn row, putting on a bald cap and trying to alter my hair color by installing one of my favorite blonde asymmetrical bob frontal wigs that I was going to use for Halloween.

They were enough to make any girl jealous. I couldn't help but wonder if it was real or bleached. I treasured my raven-colored hair and had never bleached it before but at the moment I couldn't help but consider the thought of having my hair bleached, I mean what could be the harm in giving it a try? Seeing it properly now, the man's hair had to be bleached, yes! there's no way a person's hair could look like golden flames but now the question is where did he get the products from?

"She's not wrong, Ree. Clean yours and then come do mine while you're at it." Reid laughs and declines flatly. "We have people for that." Boys. "What's up, Drea? Everything okay?" Drew asks, turning toward me and setting down his controller. "Um," I hesitate. "Do either of you know how to braid? I want a french braid, but I don't want to bother Dorathy she's doing laundry." I say the last part with a pointed look at Reid, who just smirks. "Hand it over," Reid says, nodding at the brush and hair tie in my hands. I pass them to him, a little skeptical.