If you are ever stuck at home with an exacting teenager whose idea of beauty is perfectly coiffed hair, you are in trouble .
It begins innocently enough.
“Don’t these honey – blonde high lights against dark hair looks fine mummy? We can do it at home. One box is enough and it’s easy too. Think of all the savings and we would look like a million dollars.”
Note, the word ‘we’. Also the timing is impeccable. This was suggested when yours truly was neck deep in a Mexican Gothic world of suspected madness, murders and mayhem.
(PS: Mexican Gothic is a book)
“Should I order? I’m ordering! It will be fabulous. It’s like painting and I know you will do a fantastic job.”
That last line set off a tiny switch in my head. I will do a fantastic job? Four months ago I gave her a haircut that was wrought with so much drama – shrieks and tears. It scared everybody off DIY haircuts forever.
Perhaps I should have said something then instead of going back to my reading.
The honey- blonde high light box arrived. It contained a thin tube, a small bottle, an applicator brush, gloves and pages of instructions.
“This is your project darling. Please take charge.” I said loudly.
She was on it.
In the evening she hunted two YouTube videos on Balayage technique of hair painting. It is just another fancy word for hair colouring. Also I ended watching the videos with her, under duress. Words like sun kissed, mid length, sections, feather touch were brandished about.
“Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll wash my hair. You can trim an inch off it, mummy. After that, you only have to section off parts and begin painting from mid length to the bottom. Feather touches, alright mum?”
I was ambushed, I was cajoled , I didn’t stand a chance.
Next day, I sat through three more YouTube videos to hone my non existent skills while madam got her hair ready for the treatment. The one inch trim too went off smoothly. I only had to make her change two chairs and stand to get all the lovely locks in one straight line.
Using my pitiful resources of 4 pins and a comb, I divided her hair into 12 sections. With my trusty desi flat mehendi applicator hair brush, I began painting her hair.
Now I have to admit that Ms Teen was a model client. She actually cheered me on as though I was running a triathlon. Each section done was neatly wrapped in foil as demonstrated in the video. Still the battle was scarcely over.
Five hours later, I was again called to wash the colour off using the special conditioner. “Only the bottom part , mum!” It was back to jugaad.
Layers of clothes were laid for madam to lie on the floor so that she could flip her tresses back into a bucket. The hand maiden called Mummy, removed the foil and gently rinsed the muck off till it was squeaky clean. Yeah, it was a less fancy version of the ancient Roman Baths but it got the job done.
So did the high lights chamko, shine , gleam?
You bet. They glistened with a glow of a hundred moons.
Ms Teen danced with glee as she informed all and sundry. “My mum did such a fantastic job, I’m not kidding. She did it all by herself. I couldn’t be happier.”
Apparently I have an alternative career all lined up in case my teaching doesn’t pan out tomorrow.
Ms Teen gave me five stars for my efforts.
Inspired by Tuesday photo challenge : Tomorrow