Behold, a cautionary tale of the most genuine sort about how faith and visualization sometimes aren’t enough, especially when inexpensive hair dye and inexperience are involved.

Last year, I got a wild hare in my ass after the high of my sudden domesticity came down and I dyed a bright purple streak in my bangs in a sad attempt to save myself from Boringstonville. I adored it, but after six months of fortnightly bleaching and weekly color touch-ups I had to resign myself to the fact that if I did anything else to this small plot of follicles, I would only succeed in enlongating my forehead.

So, I took myself to a real live professional (a rare, raaare occurence for me) who spent TWO HOURS putting stripping treatment on this 6″sq to no avail. She then dyed everything all one color in hopes to obscure the remaining color - again, to no avail.

Six months later, my hair has grown out significantly and it has become apparent that the color it was dyed is notably lighter than my actual hair color. In an[other] attempt to remedy this once and for all, I go for a hair dye in “Dark Chocolate” because it best matches my roots and it’s one of those things I love sporting just as the leaves start to change.

When I am dyeing my hair, I visualize, long, shining, luxurious locks of dark, flowing tresses that mesmerize and seduce. I hope to channel something Megan Fox-y or Catherine Zeta-Jones-y or [perhaps more realistic, if only a little] Kim Kardashian-y.

I am sorely mistaken.

When I was whining about my misfortune to a friend, she asked, “Okay, seriously. How bad is it?” I then relayed to her the story of a visit to a local convenience mart mere hours earlier during which the gum-chewing, brace-laced, dead-eyed minor behind the counter had [relatively] excitedly exclaimed, “Oh, wow! Has anyone told you that you, like, look exactly like Amy Lee? Like, identical.”

My friend didn’t stop laughing for a whole three minutes.

I would vow to remain in seclusion until I can afford another hair treatment (physically or financially) but that would only further the image that I am now one of the pale, mopey, anti-social Goth chick that I loathe so very. very. very much.

At least Halloween is next month.