Bleaching Hair Twice In One Day の小説・ストーリー

Mom asks as the group of us sit at Christine's salon. "What do you mean?" "She means you can't be messing with the bleach while you're pregnant. The blond you like your hair to be requires the roots to be bleached," Christine explains. "Well shit, I didn't even think about that. I guess I could go dark. No bleach for that." I shrug. "My real hair color is so drab, I gotta have something slightly different." "We'll look less like twins than we ever have," Justice quips. "You'll have a stomach, dark hair, a baby on your hip. A country song, if you will."

“You said it happened at dinner and again yesterday, right?” “I still don’t understand it,” I reply, walking toward the hair aisle, eyes scanning different braids and extensions. “It’s not something I control. It just happens. Like a flash, or a blink, and then—boom—it’s real.” I pull down a sleek pack of White Plum Goddess Weave, the kind that wraps like clouded silk around the scalp. I toss it into my basket, deciding instantly. The locks had to go. I need to feel new, look new.

Pushing it to my nose, it doesn’t smell bad. “What happens if I miss a day?” “Nothing will work again. His hair will return immediately to its white colour, and it will reject every other dye.” My gut churns. “If I miss just one day?” “Yes. It’s advisable to start once you’re ready. Pick a time, and stick to it.” “Isn’t this a little too…much? So many rules, and one missed day will wipe all my effort?” She shrugs. “That’s the only way. The good thing is that, it’ll suppress his powers. No more night escapades. He’ll be a regular five year old, dark-haired pup.”

I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower. After my shower, I take the hairdryer from the bathroom cabinet and plug it in. My hair now has about an inch of blond root. If I was still with Celine, she would have dyed the root and trimmed the length short. I hated whenever she called me to come to fix my hair but what could I have done? Not like I could protest and have her stop, right? After tomorrow, I'll surely seek a professional's help and see what they can do about the damage she's done to my hair.

she asked kindly. I didn’t even blink. “I want to bleach my hair. All of it. Cut it, too.” She raised a brow, a grin tugging at her lip. “You sure? You’ve got pretty hair.” “I don’t want pretty,” I said. “I want different.” An hour later, the woman in the mirror barely looked like me. My long, curly hair had been chopped into a blunt shoulder-length bob that made my neck look longer and drew every attention to my face. My dull black hair had been dyed strawberry blonde.

The Man behind the Name Lolita stared at herself in front of the mirror. It’s been two days after the awful encounter in the birthday party, and she still couldn’t get over it. When she washed her face in the sink, the water dripped into her edges. She paused to study her hair. The roots were getting darker, indicating that the dye was dying off. She wondered if she should book an appointment with the hair stylist again. You weren’t blond when I last saw you.

Nicole said with a shrug. "It is a big deal. You started losing your hair three months ago. Can't you add two and two together? Arielle gave you those drugs so you could go bald. Look at your hair Nicole, in the next two months if it keeps falling out at the rate it is, you'll be hairless" she gasped, her eyes wide as a cat who'd thought of something disturbing.

Renata grins, sliding on a pair of gloves and Stormi does the same. I sit quietly and follow instructions while they try to figure it out, even asking the invited stylists for advice. It takes a while but we succeed in colouring every root and strand. We leave the dye in my hair for a good hour and then some more minutes, while playing a card game while interacting with the audience. The views are up by two million more by the time the timmer to wash out my dye dings. “It's time,” Stormi rises, shaking the phone towards the camera.

” " I'm just going to have a look today, okay? I won't do anything to your hair today, not yet. Let's do it step by step, I'm just looking at your hair structure, the strands, the basics.” There were some clients being assisted in neighbouring chairs. In one of them was Patrícia, who was being assisted by Maura, one of Clara's colleagues. Patrícia was a redhead and had sensitivity in her scalp and Maura now only saw her once a week. When she started the treatment, Patricia came to the salon every day, then they reduced her daily visits to alternate days. Now she was in the phase of only once a week and soon it would be only once every fortnight, once a month and then only maintenance.

However, I didn’t see any headwear, which meant I would have to stain my hair since it wouldn’t be covered. I went about making the tincture for the dye. I had an hour, and that was enough time to let it sit and work its magic. I stroked my flaming locks one last time before applying the dye. Typically, we could only bathe once a week in hot water. For the rest of the time, we had to clean ourselves with cold water in a bowl. It was enough to get everything that needed to be cleaned. Since I doubted my bathing habits wouldn’t change in my new station, I figured the dye would allow me to have brown hair for about two to three weeks before needing to re-stain it, which suited me just fine.