Isolation does some weird things to your brain. So far, I’ve picked up knitting, learned all of the moves to Britney Spears’ 00s hit Oops… I Did It Again and most recently, have given myself Avril Lavigne e-girl stripes.
In a recent YouTube binge, I fell down a rabbit hole of Best Damn Thing-era Avril music videos and naturally, I decided that chucking some hot pink streaks in my hair would solve all of my life problems.
Plot twist: It didn’t. But hoo boy, it was an adventure.
If you’re not quite adventurous/stupid enough to ruin your own hair, I invite you to live vicariously through the dumbest hair decision I’ve made since that time I bleached my hair a month ago.
Disclaimer: This is *not* a tutorial, I take no responsibility for any poor hair choices you make as a result of this.
Before busting out the hot pink hair dye, I take a good, hard look at myself in the mirror. This is the part where I should probably put the dye in the bin and call my therapist. But where’s the fun in that?
Before embarking on this hair journey, I should probably watch some Brad Mondo videos, call my hairdresser friend, or just do some sort of research. But this isn’t a tutorial, I’m not a hairdresser, and I don’t have the time or energy to do that. Instead, I decide to just wing it.
The first step is to section out your hair, which sounds simple enough.
I imagine this is the time where you should make sure the sections are even and you’ve got a perfectly straight part. But again, I’m not a hairdresser. I’m just a girl who should probably be banned from the hair dye aisle at Priceline.
I haphazardly section out my future e-girl stripes, they’re definitely not even but I don’t have the patience to fix them.
Next, I realise I didn’t bother to buy any of the essential tools needed to dye your hair at home. I panic. A brush? Who needs it! A bowl? I don’t have time for that! Gloves? Never heard of her.
You’re probably thinking I should wait until I have the necessary supplies. And look, you’re probably right. But where’s the fun in that?
I raid my kitchen and bathroom drawers and managed to find a “bowl” (mason jar lid) and a “mixing utensil” (the end of my eyebrow brush). I eyeball a questionable amount of pink box-dye into the lid of the mason jar, eyeball an almost-equal amount of conditioner and get mixing with my trusty eyebrow brush.
“This is EXACTLY how my hairdresser does it,” I tell myself.
At this point I remember that I don’t have gloves, but mum didn’t raise a quitter so I stick my hands in there and lather that shit straight on my hair. Who cares if I stain my hands? Nobody will even notice because they’ll be too busy wondering why BDT-era Avril Lavigne is back.
In an attempt to feel somewhat like a real hairdresser, I wrap my future e-girl stripes in some foil. This does precisely fuck all to help it develop, but I am determined to look ~professional~.
I don’t set a timer, or even read how long I’m supposed to leave this stuff in my hair. Instead, I take to Instagram to poll my followers (who do not give a single fuck) on whether this is the dumbest decision I’ve ever made.
I blast Complicated in my bathroom, practice twerking in my mirror, take a couple of thirst traps, then decide it’s time to wash it out.
Surprisingly, I am smart enough to realise that I need to shampoo my e-girl stripes separate from the rest of my hair to avoid dying my precious blonde locks. I bust out the Olaplex, give it a good wash and sing some more Avril.
After getting out of the shower, I blow dry my e-girl stripes separately from the rest of my hair to avoid the colour bleeding. I blow dry the rest of my hair, do my makeup and get ready to debut my new hair in the group chat.
In truly shocking news, it doesn’t end up being a complete and utter disaster.
If you’re going to do this at home, you should probably watch a Brad Mondo tutorial or do some research first. But hey, I did this without doing any research or even wearing gloves, so go your hardest. Ruin your hair. There are no rules. The world is your oyster.