My hairdresser hates me.

So really, I hope my hairdresser does NOT hate me because we've been friends since I was six. But I am pretty sure she's been frustrated with me from time to time!

If you live locally in the Metro Detroit Area and need someone to save your hair, this girl is it. If she can put up with me and my antics, she can do anything! You can find her at the chic salon of H2O2 in downtown Birmingham, where the mood is inviting and the lighting is perfect.

I may be bias but she does amazing work. 

So here's the history of my hur.

I was born bald. I mean like bald bald. I then grew a few hairs and they were real blonde.  As I grew up they turned to this really mousey, dirty mop-water brown. Not cute.

Flash forward to high school and everyone was using Sun-In. Yeah, I was one of those girls with orange hair because apparently that shit doesn't work on us brunettes very well! So I started dying my hair around the time I was 16. At first it started with high lights, nothing too crazy and then when I went away to college and couldn't afford to keep up with the high lights I started dying my hair myself.

The box dye slowly started getting darker and darker and before I knew it I was picking up the color Jet Black. This all started because I had people tell me I looked like Megan Fox. I really never saw it but I guess it was because of the light blue eyes and dark hair.

By about sophomore year in college I was dying my roots every 4-5 weeks because I couldn't stand the regrowth or fading. I was always trying to keep a tan to make sure I didn't look like I belonged in the Adams family with such dark hair.

I graduated college and a year later became pregnant with Tracen. Shortly after having him I went to get my hair colored and dropped a bomb on my hairdresser. "I think I'd like to go blonde" I said.  It's safe to assume that these were the hormones talking but I was never questioned so we started the bleach washes as we wanted the least amount of damage to occur. I think we did 3 in one sitting and it pretty much didn't do anything. For a few months straight we did these bleach washes and low level stripping to get the YEARS of build up off. I also had this unrealistic idea that I wanted to have blonde hair for my girlfriends wedding I was going to be in, in California, In August.  So I basically gave her about 6 months to make this happen with over 6 YEARS of box dye to get out. She should have told me she just couldn't do it with out making me go bald and I probably would have stopped asking. Or maybe not, who knows. We started to really strip my hair and then tone it. In May I got my job now and started with a dark red hair color. (I interviewed with black hair so they kind of confused when I started!)

I slowly had what I tried telling myself was strawberry blonde hair, and then finally blonde. I  made her make me blonde and regretted it.  I don't even have pictures of this color because it was so short lived.  Here's the thing though, my hair was F-R-I-E-D. I tried pretending it was okay but I knew I had rushed everything. I was being impatient and it wasn't Jamie's fault, it was mine. So after seeing the wedding pictures and hating what I looked like I did what any normal person would do. I bought a box of dye and proceeded to hide from Jamie and not make appointments to come see her.  I was just so embarrassed that I had rushed her along this process. One day I got a text that went something along the lines of:

J: So that picture of you and Tracen on Facebook is long have you had that box dye on your head?
Me: caught me. I honestly don't know what to say...don't hate me??
J: I thought so. When you are ready come and see me let me know.  I'm not mad but don't ask me to go blonde again missy!

I later went back and got my hair cut and had her dye it with proper hair coloring. Thankfully she allowed me back in the salon and still wanted to be my friend.

Can you guess what happen a few months before I got pregnant with Skylor? I sent her a picture of Rachel Zoe and said, "I think over this next year I want to get to this, can we make it happen?"

Her response was something like, "Chelsea, you are out of your f****** mind again aren't you? Fine... but you KNOW it won't happen right away...what am I going to do with you dude!?" Or maybe she cursed me out, I can't really remember.

Over the past year I let her do her thing, I trusted her fully. We have done everything slow and I've walked out of the salon happy with every stage. Between being pregnant and how I've taken care of my hair, it's been the thickest and longest it's ever been and I owe EVERYTHING to Jamie. I get compliments at work all the time on the color, cut and how beautiful it looks. I get asked if I'm wearing my extensions because it looks that good! I'm thankful that she has stuck by my side even though I may have strayed a time or two.