The Beauty Treatments Our Editors Regret the Most

"When I was in seventh grade, I begged my mom to let me get chunky highlights. This was right around the time of peak 'American Idol' fame, and I wanted nothing more than Kelly Clarkson's glistening blond stripes. Finally, after months of persuasion, she folded, and I walked into the salon with a crisp photo of the star printed onto a piece of paper from my family's janky HP DeskJet. Let's just say the ink must have been off that day, because my head looked like a McDonald's carpenter had their Golden Arches way with it. Naturally, I refused to go to school the next day, but it would be another two weeks before my mom could get me in for a correction. Now, I rarely, if ever, dye my hair — we're talking two, three times since that fateful day — because the trauma still lingers."