What is it about highlighting that’s so durn addictive? It starts as a few innocent foils “for dimension,” and before you know it, you’re blonde.
My stylist is the best enabler. It started last season, with some subtle highlights to try and hide the lovely flat shade of orangey-red I acquired from a home hair color fail. Then two weeks ago, when I went in for a trim, we filled my head with foils, banishing the last of the brass. Two days later, she texted me and said, “I’ve been thinking about your hair all weekend. I want you to come back in to paint on just a few more highlights, if that’s cool with you.”
And I was all, “let’s do it!” Because I figure if a little blonde is a good, a lot of blonde is better…
It’s a slippery slope, the hair highlighting.
So Saturday afternoon, she put in a few more foils, and then balayaged — my spellcheck really doesn’t want to let that word happen, but it’s happening — lighter pieces all throughout. We left my roots natural for easy maintenance, and decided we’re probably done.