Week 3: Caca Rouge

This week, my hair changed colour. Without ammonia. Without bleach. Without packaging. With henna!

I’ll admit that I’ve always been a little afraid of henna. From what I’ve heard, it’s quite a commitment. You can’t just switch back to a normal dye, so whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with it. This has put me off for years, but now it was almost part of the appeal! I want to waste less, but giving up dye altogether wasn’t part of the plan (my grey hairs have quadrupled in the last 6 months).

A quick trip to Lush and a chat with some really helpful staff later…


Being cautious, I carried out a strand test before taking the plunge (highly recommended to check for allergy and to check the colour). A full day later and my strand didn’t look any different. So, with no idea what colour I was getting, but confident that my face wasn’t going to blow up, I went for it.

For those of you who haven’t used henna, you add hot water to melt the block, then mix it until it looks like melted chocolate. Or something else. In all honesty, it reminded me more of the contents of a dirty nappy. Which makes sense seeing as this particular henna is literally called ‘red poo’. Not appealing so far! It got worse. Once it’s melted, you rub it into your hair. This is surprisingly difficult because as soon as you touch it it cools and starts to solidify. Quite quickly, you realise you are now trapped on the spot as the ground around has become a minefield of gritty little lumps. The lumps are also on all surrounding surfaces, in your bra, pressed in the waistband of your trousers, between your toes, down your back and inside the gloves. At least it doesn’t stain, right?

Honestly, I wasn’t really prepared for the level of bathroom destruction that came with henna. Thankfully, Chris was distracted by the baby throughout. I don’t think he’d have coped if he’d seen the chaos I created before I had the chance to clean up! It’s fine though, you have at least 3 hours to kill before it’s time to wash it out. Which happens to be the next opportunity to make a world of mess… more gritty lumps, more staining…

Minutes, hours, months and years passed before the bathroom was finally clean, my skin was finally stain free (almost- thank goodness for moisturiser) and my hair was orange. Yes, orange.

I think I like it.


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