Tragedy. Horror. Spontaneous combustion. Mass hysteria. Throat closing over. Spots in front of my eyes. Help me, someone. HELP ME.

I've butchered my beauty! I've ruined crowning glory! My hair! My hair! What did I do to my hair? ARGH. I could so murder my idiotic hair stylist. She suggested I get this treatment to my hair that would "rejuvenate" my blond. Okay, it's a colour! Stop giving me the third degree! But it was meant to be ultra-natural and just look... you know. Like me! Only a cleaner blond.

Well, NO. Turns out the colourist I got was on crack, because now my hair is like, totally fluorescent! It's, like, fucking white in some places, gold in others (which looks quite nice; I thought it would be kinda like that all over), and freaking Big Bird yellow in others. ARGH. I look... cheap! That was the last thing I wanted, especially from a two hundred dollar colour. I look like any fucking faggot at a cheap gay club who wants to be blond as everyone knows blonds are totally more boneable (sidenote: I don't think that. I much prefer dark good looks, but everyone else likes blonds, go figure) and goes and grabs a packet of Napro Nordic Colours and gets frumpy faghag Rhianna or Belinda to colour their hair before putting on their Industrie and yd and Aquilas before going out to shake their shrunken buttocks in some hole of a nightclub that's wedged between a falafel shop and service station. Oh God. I should have just gone to Just Cuts. At least they are experts in colouring people a bad blond as they do it all day. Sigh.

Breathe, Dawei. Breathe. It's okay. You can get it cut out in a few weeks. It's not the end of the world. Get some perspective.

*cries*

In other news, it's Breast Cancer Awareness Week or something, which has really totally grounded me. I know I can obsess about the more insignificant, shallow things, but I really do hate cancer. One of my mother's best friends is currently "battling" with cancer, as they like to say (really, if I ever do do my Ph.D, cancer rhetoric in the media would be fascinating), and as a mark of support and respect I am going to one of those breast cancer breakfast things! I'm not wearing pink though, as it's not my colour. I will, however, wear a pink ribbon. I'm sort of looking forward to it. I mean, it will be my first venture back into the social scene since I had my hair ruined. It will be a good practice run. I mean, I'm sort of guaranteed to not have the worst hair in the room!