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When I decided to color my hair, it was not because I suddenly had a desire to be a blonde bombshell or a foxy redhead. As a fifty-something-year-old, I would need more than a bottle of hair dye to transform into a bombshell or a fox. I suspect it would have taken full-body liposuction and a stupendously gifted fairy godmother. Fortunately, all I really wanted to do was cover the gray that was waging a war with the brunette follicles on my head.

While most of my friends had the good sense to go to a salon to color their hair, I thought I could efficiently handle the problem myself. I figured using one of those "washes out in 28 shampoos" colors at home was a better plan because:

A) It was a lot cheaper.

B) If I screwed up the color, I only had to live with it for a month.

That said, one does not necessarily want to live with pumpkin-colored hair for a month.

Yes, that was the color of my hair after I decided to try a "Medium Warm Brown" version of my regular hair color.

Who knew "warm" was actually a euphemism for "orange"?

Although my impulse was to immediately go get a darker color and repeat the process, good sense intervened when I realized there was a chance that two dye jobs in a row could leave me with an even worse result: no hair at all.

So, I called the Hair Color Emergency Hotline.

"I'm calling to report a hair color emergency," I announced.

"What is the nature of your problem?" asked the hair color EMT on the other end.

"My hair is orange," I reported.

"Is it brown or blonde with orange highlights, or full-on orange?" he asked.

"Full-on orange," I responded morosely.

"Is it cantaloupe orange, geranium orange or sunset orange?" he asked.

"Is there a distinction?" I asked impatiently.

"Well, yes," he insisted. "Cantaloupe orange is a true, iridescent orange. Geranium orange has yellow highlights mixed in, and sunset orange has red undertones.

"Cantaloupe orange," I finally said, assessing my iridescent color in the mirror.

"Got it. That is a Code 242 Shocking Orange Hair Color Emergency!" he said.

"OK, well, I need a hair color intervention," I replied. "I want to be medium brown, not cantaloupe orange."

"No problem," he assured me. "You need to go purchase the Ash Brown hair color, mix it with one-third shampoo, and reapply to your hair."

"Is that it?" I asked, relieved that my stint as a jack-o-lantern was about to come to a close.

"Oh, and don't leave it on for more than 15 minutes," he added as I was hanging up.

I ran back to the drugstore to get the antidote hair color, but by the time I got home, I had forgotten the hair color EMT's parting words of caution. Believing that longer would be better; I left the hair color on for half an hour. I took it as a good sign that the gel on my hair was really dark. Given the options, I decided I would rather blend in with the night than glow in the dark.

But when I rinsed it out, it wasn't brown or black.

It was purple.

Shaking my blueberry-hued head in disbelief, I picked up the phone.

"Is it eggplant purple, concord grape or lilac?" asked the hair color EMT.

"Eggplant purple," I said definitively.

"Hmmm," he drawled. "Good luck with that one."

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Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.

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