But the color wasn’t the real tragedy. The texture was. Before Color Oops, my hair was soft and bouncy, like a friendly golden retriever. After, it was like a cactus with split ends. It literally squeaked when I ran my fingers through it. I’m pretty sure I heard my hair whisper, “Please, no more chemicals.”
Have you ever touched cotton candy that’s been left in the rain? That’s what the ends felt like. My usual conditioner turned into a useless placebo. I slathered on a whole jar of coconut oil, and my hair just said, “Thanks, but I’ll stick to being brittle.” I couldn’t even brush it without looking like I’d wrestled a cat.
The Panic Phase
I panicked. I called my best friend, who is a hairdresser, at 9 PM. She laughed for a solid minute before she could speak. She said, “Did you really think you could strip out black box dye without a fight?” She told me my hair was now “porous” and “angry.” I think “angry” was an understatement. It was vengeful.
Color oops ruined my hair - Hopcustom
I tried a deep conditioning mask that cost as much as a nice dinner. My hair absorbed it in five minutes and immediately looked thirstier than a man in a desert. I even tried a vinegar rinse, because the internet said so. I smelled like a salad for two days, and my hair still looked like a scarecrow’s wig.
