My Hair

Thanks Nu Nu and Laani for allowing me to vent constantly about my hair dilemmas!!

I have always been obsessed with my hair. Having fine, thin hair all my life means if I make a mistake, it takes forever to grow out and I don't have enough hair to cover it up. As long as I can remember I have been dying it blonde/brown/black/purple and no longer know what my natural colour is - if I go by my eyebrows then I guess I am dark blonde.

Prior to leaving the UK to go sailing I was dying my hair myself every 4 weeks, washing it every day and blow drying it straight every morning. All these activities meant my hair was split, dry and crying out for some TLC despite the expensive products I put on my head. With the upcoming sailing adventure I figured I needed a style and colour that was easy to maintain and didn't mind salt, sea and sand in excess.

So I took my blonde locks (see my passport photo to the left) to the hairdressers for them to dye. As hairdressers in London are so expensive, especially for a dye, I got a groupon voucher and went to a salon I had never been to before but it had good reviews – big mistake. I sat in the chair and told the hairdresser that I wanted my hair dyed dark blonde, like I presumed my natural colour would be. She fussed over the state of my hair , tutting at the broken strands and set to work removing the bleach. As the hours ticked by, I grew more and more concerned. My hair had gone from platinum blonde to dark dark brown. She assured me that it would turn out dark blonde and so I relaxed a little and told myself it would go lighter when washed. Well it didn't, not even close. I came out of the hairdresser looking like Mortisha Adams. Of course typical Brit that I am, I didn't tell the hairdresser that I was horrified with the result, I just faked a smile and got out of there quickly ringing Mum and moaning at how awful I looked.

Back home I washed my hair multiple times hoping it would lighten but no luck, the colour stuck. I could have gone and dyed it again by myself but I figured my hair did feel a lot healthier and when in the Caribbean, the sun could turn it back to a dark blonde without the artificial intervention.

Packing to go to the Caribbean via Canada I was deciding what toiletries to take with me. Only having one duffel bag each, I had to be brutal with the contents so I opted just to take my Moroccan Oil and an Aussie leave in conditioner. The Moroccan Oil was recommended by multiple friends who like me, dye and manipulate their hair way too much. Although expensive, it goes a long way and is actually amazing for anyone with hair like mine. My hair (often like straw) turns into silky, glossy locks with only a tiny drop of this stuff (thanks NiCola for the heads up on that one!).

Once I got to the Caribbean, my hair did go lighter in the sun, but rather than going blonde it started to turn ginger – horror of horrors!! Fed up of shocking myself every time I looked in the mirror, I hunted down what seemed to be the only box of blonde hair dye in Grenada and whilst we were still staying in an apartment prior to moving aboard Orion, I took advantage of the bathroom and gave in, dying my hair. Unfortunately the only blonde dye I could find was a dark blonde shade but better than nothing, it definitely lightened my hair but I still wasn't satisfied.

And then 3 months went by... Now during these 3 months I had hunted on every island for more blonde hair dye but had no joy. The only hope was that the further north we were going, the lighter the shades of hair dye were getting. I was hopeful that by the time we got to St Martin, I would get my hands on this most sought after item. Poor Dylan was dragged around drug store after drug store looking for this stuff and only being met with black afro products whilst being schooled on exactly what shades I was after. Nothing with 'warm' in the title as that equals ginger on my hair and only things with 'ash' in the title as that kept the tones 'cool'. Thinking I was a total nutter at first, he soon realised how serious I was and started getting just as involved in my mission exhaling loudly when we discovered the minimal range of stock time after time.

By the time I got to St Martin, I had got my hair trimmed by Laani (thanks again!) which had tamed the straw but I had 2 inch dark roots. On our way back from ACE megastore we saw a sign for a big beauty place. Getting off the bus I walked into the store and came face to face with a whole aisle of dyes to choose from, Heaven! So I walk up and down hugging all the boxes that could be a decent shade...shunning anything that says warm and choosing anything that says 'light ash'. After much uhming and aahing and confering with Dylan (so I can blame him if it goes wrong) I chose one and took it back to the boat.

Now dying hair as you know uses a lot of water...a substance that is scarce on board a boat so I agree with Dylan that I shall wait until it rains before I stink the boat out with ammonia. As luck would have it, that night it rains really hard and I collect buckets, pots and pans full of water to wash my hair in. So this morning I don the bikini, get in the cockpit complete with full length mirror propped up and a gnome stool and get to work. The ammonia stinging my eyes, I part my hair and massage the dye right into my roots – Dylan at this point has made himself scarce. Time up I get Dylan to pour the buckets over my head (he was found hanging over the bow looking at the anchor chain – the extremes he will go to to get out of the fumes!) when I look in the mirror I see that wet, my hair looks WHITE. Dry it doesn't really change colour. Quite a surprise in fact as the colour looks nothing like it did on the box and I am one shade away from looking albino. Hey ho, good job anything goes in the cruising community and on the upside I have no roots and Dylan says I look like Storm from X-Men!!