This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/RatherRabbit on 2025-11-23 03:21:08+00:00.
You're probably expecting an attached picture of some horribly damaged hair in some unintended shade, but this mistake didn't even manage to get THAT far before I fucked it up.
When I was younger I had a big problem with compulsive skin picking/hair pulling, mostly on my scalp. It got better and worse with stress, and I was lucky that I never developed the compulsion to eat the hair and have to have a hairball surgically removed as some people do. But it was still severe enough to lead to thin patches in my hair and constant open sores, so both embarrassing and painful.
We tried a lot of things to try and at least cut down on it, from playing with my medication doses to various therapies, which all helped but until my physical health nosedived. Won't tell the whole sob story but I wasn't going to school anymore. I got a teacher to come to my house once a week for an hour and a half. While it wasn't cancer and I wasn't dying, this was the same school schedule they offer to children who they think MIGHT beat their cancer. So on top of being very ill I was also very behind academically, very lonely, and very stressed by my health and the way the adults around me acted.
Then, one of my friends got their hair dyed over the summer. The uniform at my school was very strict, so as a tween I had never even seen someone my age with highlights, let alone a full head of purple hair. I genuinely don't think I'd ever considered it possible. I was OBSESSED and wanted to do it so so badly.
Of course, my hairdresser took one look at the sores on my head and said nope. Bleach does not go near open wounds.
So just like that I had an external reward to work toward, to help break the habit. Something that would normally be completely disallowed but was a special treat specifically for me, no worrying about getting my hair back to it's natural color for class, nothing.
And it kind of worked embarrassingly well.
Fast forward though. I'm an adult now. I'm going through another stressful period of time. I got diagnosed with MASH, I'm trying to sort out getting into the work program so that I can afford college. I'm trying to learn to drive.
So I'm pulling my hair out again, and it's pretty bad. Nothing I usually do is working, until I remember this handy little trick from my childhood.
I get a little bleach and dye kit at CVS. I read the instructions. I apply the bleach.
Now I'm going to try and communicate to you what it feels like to get bleach into an open wound, especially one on a delicate area like your scalp. I strongly recommend that you don't do this, because "very painful" is not an accurate description.
At first it just stings. Fairly normal. If you've ever had lice, you probably have a good point of comparison. It stings because it is a strong chemical, and this is what happens when a strong chemical touches you.
Of course, as you spread the bleach around, you will abruptly find one of these open sores. Even then, for the first few seconds, it's bearable. It sharpens, it makes you wince. You don't remember dying your hair hurting this bad before. But it has been a long time. You tangle your fingers in your hair through the shitty plastic gloves provided and lather the concoction in.
As you do this, you disrupt the fragile, never quite properly formed scab. Bleach mixes with blood and touches new flesh. It's the sharp sting of a biting fly, but larger. It doesn't stop. It's the pinpoint pain of piercing your own ear, except that pain spreads without diluting. It's the dull knife you thought you surely couldn't hurt yourself with.
Finally it's the pain of a cat's fang in your skull. It's something primal, which I know sounds corny. The spreading takes on a different tone, and it brings images of every dramatic zombie bite x-ray scene. The disease spreading through the veins, except it's through every tiny capillary that helps keep the most vital region of your body rich with blood.
For a brief moment you are Australopithecus. You don't see it, you don't hear it. But you feel the air displaced and the fangs of Dinofelis in the back of your skull. Perfectly spaced, cracking your skull open like a walnut to lick out the gelatinous fat inside.
Then you leap into the shower and Suave Two-in-One briefly becomes the touch of a loving god you fear may not exist.
TL;DR: Tried to dye hair. Forgot to make sure I didn't have open wounds on my fucking scalp again. Ow.