0 comments / Posted on by Tricia Webster



I can be lazy as fuck—ESPECIALLY when it comes to my hair. I wash it, condition it, and that’s about it. Other than driving with the windows down, I don’t even dry it! Brushing it once or twice a day and maybe throwing it up in a clip or ponytail is as far as I go without a cattle prod and adult supervision.




I’ve been the bane of my stylish sister’s existence since that fateful day when she found my first gray hair—at 19 years old! Since then she’s bribed, begged, and badgered me to do something with it, but I held my ground. I was fine with my silver streaks! I grew up watching all of the time and effort she put into her hair and decided coloring was NOT for me…until I started working at oVertone…and they told me I had to.



But I knew that going in, and I had options: I could do some streaks, an ombre, any number of colors...  My bestie the Chroma Caticorn convinced me to just bite the bullet and GO GREEEEEEEEN.

I went to the salon to get my hair bleached and dyed for the first time ever. I was TERRIFIED! I even sent out some last minute selfies so that people wouldn’t forget what I looked like if it went horribly, horribly wrong and I had to wear scarves/avoid pictures/become a hermit for the next who-knows-how-long.

Before it started, all I could remember was hearing about how uncomfortable or even painful bleaching could be. I got lucky—at the worst my scalp was itchy and tingly, very similar to how my lips feel when I use the more extreme plumping lip gloss.




Then—for the first and probably last time in my life—I was blonde. As you can see, it wasn’t very pretty. In fact, the main response to the blonde pics was, “Um…you aren’t STAYING that way, riiiiiiiight?” followed by all the colors I should try. Did I mention that other than immediate family and close friends I didn’t warn anyone? Yeah, my sudden random FB selfies with cryptic captions were a shocker and my friends were either grabbing popcorn to watch it unfold or flipping their shit!

By then I was a few hours, 4 salon ladies, and a ton of notifications in. The panic had worn off. I was sort of numb, but since my stomach no longer felt like it was in the middle of a long drop on a roller-coaster, I was starting to get over the shock. In fact, now I was starting to get excited. My hair cherry was popped and I was ready to be a frickin Mermaid!

On went the dye and a short time later I was ready to rock.



I loved my hair, but the next couple of weeks were the hardest of my life, beauty-wise. The dye just kept on running…and running…and running...

Cleaning it up was WORK compared to my usual shower routine. Previously, shaving was the most effort; and half the time I’d only finish THAT because one furry leg just isn’t a style. I finally had an excuse to avoid intense exercise because if I sweat too much I leaked a greenish blue. As it was I had to get up close and personal with a sugar scrub and a harsh bar of soap to avoid looking like a washed out combo of the Hulk and a Smurf. My bathtub looked like the bottom of a pool with its pretty seafoam stain until finally, I couldn’t handle it anymore and washed my hair what seemed like a million times to get as much of the dye out as possible. Then, and only then, was I able to go back to being my lazy, happy self.



Now? Now I just use oVertone’s Vibrant Green Daily Conditioner in the steaming hot shower every few days and every 3rd wash or so I switch to my Vibrant Green Go Deep Weekly Treatment. As long as I wear gloves and don’t splatter all over myself when I use the Go Deep, my cleanup is nil. Every couple of months or so I’ll have to get my roots bleached, but I’ll pay to have that done and just Go Deep my hair to match instead of using dye again. Laziness for the win!!!

Wash, condition with oVertone, hang my head out the window—minimal upkeep, lovely locks AND a happy sister. Well, until she sees my eyebrows anyway…


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