Nightmare Material.

So. As many of you know, I have a thin streak of light blond highlighting the front of my hair. Today I went to a new salon recommended by a friend to get it touched up, on account of my SuperCuts in Fort Worth being nearly an hour's drive out.

Memo to those who are interested: NEVER EVER let them spread the highlighty-bleachy-goop all the way down previously highlighted hair. I was a little suspicious when they did it, but since I know crap about hair styling, usually assume the "experts" know what they are doing.

That was my second mistake. WALKING IN was my first.

THEY FRIED MY HAIR OFF.

I came home and hit my sopping hair with thirty seconds of dryer, brushed it out, and ... hey, what's this fuzzy white stuff caught in my brush? Is one of my shirts unravelling? Is--OH, SHIT. THAT WAS MY HAIR. Starting about an inch down the highlit part, it has gone extra-crispy and begun snapping off in super-thin, spiderwebby-textured tangles.

I returned to the salon, who blamed it on everything from the type of hairbrush I use, to the fact that I took a hairdryer to it immediately, to the fact that "different salons use different lines of product, so you should stick to the same place." In other words, they blamed it on ME. Who has been maintaining the highlights for nearly two years with no previous difficulties. No apology, no offer to try and trim down the ratty edges left behind by their work, no NOTHING.

I won't know for sure what sort of damage has been done for a couple of days, when I see how much of the front of my hair is gonna break off.

Fume, fume.

I hate people.