I think I can speak for every woman when I say that our hair is super important to us.
For some of us, it’s like our identities. We are defined by the curls on our head, the pink in our hair, the bluntness of our bangs. It’s who we are as a person, whether or not that means anything to anyone else, it means something vital to us.
Hair has always reigned supreme for me. From my perfectly coiffed bangs to the bright ass colors in my strands, it’s always been number one over makeup or tattoos or anything else.
And then there are the hair mishaps. The ones that make you think–albeit temporarily–that you’ll forever walk around with brassy blonde strands or an afro instead of a perm. In the moment, it seems like that ugly hair will define you forever… like you may as well join a traveling circus for highly unattractive people and marry the World’s Tallest Man and have hairy babies. After all, you do have the world’s ugliest hair, so what is your worth, anyways?
BTW, this is coming from the girl who spends no less than an hour trying on a variety of outfits before leaving the house… to go to the gas station.
And the same girl who thinks wearing sweatpants in public as big of a sin as passing up a Betsey Johnson party frock on sale and in your size. I mean, it may as well be an abomination.
So you can imagine my delight when I was going to get my hair done a few days ago and my utter and complete DISGUST when I came home with a hair mishap rather than a hairdo.
I’ve had dark cherry hair for months now and wanted to lighten up to a pretty strawberry blonde for summer. Adamant about not being copper (as such colors look trumpet-y & brass against my fair skin tone), I asked my stylist to perk my up strands and make me purrty.
Yet after hearing I would be as brassy as a newly polished penny if we bleached my hair, strawberry blonde was out of the question and I suggested something tamer instead… perhaps slightly lightened tips.
Ladies and gentlemen, I ended up with the ugliest, most abhorring hair imaginable.
Imagine a jack-o-lantern angel–an outcast from a Halloween party circa 1977–and ends deader than the sexy teens at Camp Crystal Lake.
Giiirl, my hair was orange. But not cool orange or citrus orange. Homegirl’s hair was BURNT ORANGE. Like, rusty orange. Like if you painted a trumpet orange, let it sit in the sun for eight years, then set it ablaze and threw it down a hill and watched it be run over by a ten-ton truck full of babies who, upon being ejected (safely, of course) from the vehicle began tugging at it mercilessly, shredding it into a tangled, frizzy mess of absolute f*cked-uppery.
To make matters worse, my sweet, side-swept bangs were then brutally hacked off into some sh*tstorm of a “baby bang”. And I left with this hair and WALKED DOWN THE STREET IN PUBLIC with this hair and was probably the laughing stock of the several restaurants and hundreds of passersby as I cried to my mommy in my phone.
And then proceeded to show up at Sally Beauty ten minutes before close, eyes puffy and red, cheeks splotched like someone splattered my face with pasta sauce, throwing down cash to cover that fugly mass of nasty up.
And by the next morning, I was back to my normal color… albeit with ends that look like the singed tail of a cat and bangs that look like I allowed a blind, mentally-unstable person to cut for fun with safety scissors, no less.
Ugh, and please don’t remind me that I (STUPIDLY) paid her. I know, I know. Never again, people.
The whole experience was positively wretched. I mean, I always had this fantasy about being an actress and one day I’d make it big in Hollywood, but first I’d probably have to do some funky films in order to get noticed or something. One was bound to be some B-grade horror flick in which I was the sexy virgin at some abandoned camp with my dumbass friends and I somehow outsmart the flesh-wearing, chainsaw-ripping, psycho mothereffer who’s hell-bent on avenging his mother’s death and his own Oedipal complex.
Dude. I didn’t even get paid for this craphole movie. Instead, I got a head full of really nasty hair, an experience that costed me money (unfortunately), but a life lesson that you should never, ever have a fantasy about being an actor because A) it will never happen; or B) it will never happen, and not only will your dreams never be fulfilled, but you’ll also shell out money to have the most disgusting hair on the face of the planet.
Obviously in my state of discontent as I experienced firsthand what it’s like to be hideous, I made something that’d make me feel immensely better about myself. I took a classic dish–pineapple rightside up cake–and made it into cupcakes. Except by ‘pineapple’, I mean ‘donut.’
BTW, these are truly impeccable and you should make them and celebrate my returning to being pretty again.
1 box yellow cake mix, plus ingredients on the back of box
1 small box sugar free/fat free instant vanilla pudding mix
About 30 glazed donut holes
About 1/3 cup brown sugar
Vanilla Buttercream (recipe & ingredients follow)
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 2 muffin tins with 24 paper liners and set aside.
2. In a large bowl, prepare the cake mix according to package directions. Stir the pudding mix into the batter to combine. Evenly distribute the batter into the muffin tins, about 1/3 full–and top with one glazed donut hole. Set any remaining donut holes aside for now.
3. Bake the cupcakes until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean, about 14 minutes. Cool completely before frosting.
2 sticks butter, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
About 5 cups powdered sugar
3 Tbsp milk
Remaining donut holes, quartered
1. In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat together the butter and vanilla until creamy. Gradually begin adding powdered sugar, about a cup at a time, until frosting is light and fluffy. If frosting becomes too thick, use a Tablespoon of milk to thin it out some.
2. Pipe or frost buttercream onto cooled cupcakes, piling it nice and high. Top each frosted cupcake with a quartered donut hole; eat remaining leftover donut hole quarters–they’re smaller, so no calories.
3. Store leftovers in the fridge for one day; best served the same day.
So, quick confession: I’m soooo Team Cake and not so much Team Frosting. While these are awesome frosted, I loved them as muffins–especially slightly warmed. The donut hole glaze caramelizes as it bakes so it gets extra sweet and gooey and yummy… seriously fantastic. You must make them!!
I may need more donuts to celebrate.