Last Friday was freaky for me. I had an interview that morning at a school where I had worked six years ago. It would only be a three hour, temporary position that I thought would be perfect. I had enjoyed working at this school, especially since the principal was a christian who had prayed with me when I went through a difficult situation. So, I was fairly confident that I would get this new job and couldn't wait to see the principal again.
It had been several months since I had colored my hair, so, I figured that I should do it before I went to the interview. Somewhere in the back of my brain was that small voice that kept saying, "Don't do it! Don't do it! Don't do it or you'll be sorry." I should have listened! Even though the hair dye wasn't the same brand that I always use, it was the same color....NOT!!! When I pulled the towel off my head, I almost fainted. I had ink-black hair and looked like Goth-girl. All I needed was a few chains and some piercings. I was devastated. I had no time to fix it. So, I chose clothes that I thought would down-play the hair. I got out the blow-drier and did the best I could.
As I pulled into the school, feelings of remorse overwhelmed me. "Maybe the principal will forget what I use to look like. Maybe I should call in sick and ask to reschedule. No, it's too late. Maybe the principal won't notice."
Waiting for the interview was torture. My brain just reeled. Half an hour after I arrived, the principal came out to shake my hand. I could tell by the tiniest look on his face that he was shocked at my hair. We sat down in his office, and to my regret, he informed me that the position was a very physical one. That was pretty much the end of the interview. We chatted for a few more minutes as I brought him up to date on my last five years of employment. As we got ready to leave his office, he asked the question I had dreaded, "Didn't you use to be a brunette?"
I couldn't get home fast enough. My fragile emotions were about to erupt. As soon as I ran in the house I grabbed a towel and the shampoo. I used it, but nothing happened. My hair-stylest had told me to try baking soda if you wanted to wash out a coloring. All that did was make my hair extremely dry. Then I remembered my mom telling me decades ago that girls used to use peroxide to lighten their hair. Gave that a try and all it did was disinfect my kitchen drain. I was now desperate. I went for the bleach. My mom had also told me that there were bleached blonds. It didn't matter to me if my hair fell out, so long as it wasn't black anymore. It took a lot of nerve to try the bleach. (Yes, it was diluted.) Then the tears began to flow. As I poured on the bleach, the tears poured from my eyes. I was so frustrated by the hair and by the job I wouldn't get. My sweet daughter was there to comfort. The main thought that kept running through my mind was, "Vanity, thy name is Alice."
It seemed that there was nothing more that I could do to get rid of the hideous color in my hair. Until, the Holy Spirit (that small voice) seemed to say, "Go to Fred Meyer, they have something that will work." Sure enough, there in the hair coloring was a wonderful box called "OOPS". It was a strong chemical, but it worked. It stripped out the black and left me with the natural color of my hair. It was a literal pain to use, but well worth it. My sanity was restored.
Proverbs 31: 30 (a verse I memorized years ago and need to continually apply), "Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised."