Have you ever noticed that just about the time your hair is driving you nuts for whatever reason, you suddenly get compliments on it? This happens to me all the time. At yesterday's Thanksgiving get-together, everybody gave me compliments on my hair. Now, it has outgrown its last trim and is now a shapeless mess. I had been obliged to spend nearly 45 minutes drying and brushing and twisting and finally spraying it into shape. This is not what I consider to be a good time!
Right up to five minutes ago, my "roots" were nearly 3 inches long. I could see these roots because my Darling Daughter somehow got me to take leave of my senses this summer and go blonde again. My natural color is a dark grey.
I kid you not. I once had a stylist take all her colors out and tell me what my natural color is. She said, "If your hair was fabric or wool and you made a suit out of it, it would be a dark grey suit."
Not "Ash-blonde." Dark grey.
So I thought I was doing fine, keeping my hair tinted a fairly dark color. But my Daughter (who is a natural blonde) bemoaned it constantly, saying wouldn't I like to try blonde for a change.
Oh, the years of memories that brought back! My Grandmother colored my hair blonde from the time I was seven years old till I was 19. She denied it vehemently. She'd be there, standing over me, putting the dye in, and from where I sat I could read the packaging that said "Hair Coloring" - and she'd still say "I'm not coloring it - I'm conditioning it."
Gotta hand it to Gran - she could have been a politician!
Anyway, it desperately needs a trim, the summer's golden hue has turned slightly brassy, the dark grey roots are 3 inches long, and it was time to finally drag out yet another bottle to help me cover my shame.
I'm going for dark blonde this time. Clairol number 106, to be exact.
I do not expect my Daughter to like it, since it's rather dark, as blondes go. But I'm hoping to get to Christmas without having to do it again.
The fact is, I'm tired of dying my hair. Just think, in four more years I'll have been coloring it for fifty years! I mean, isn't there a point where you just give up, call a spade a spade, and get on with your life - without the addition of chemicals?
I seem to remember a few years back I did just that for a couple of years. Nobody liked my natural color, either. And then I entered my "red" period.
It makes me real jealous of pussy-cats, who have beautifully-colored luxurious fur all over their bodies. All they have to do is groom themselves to be completely and utterly gorgeous.
That's how I'd like to be. Have beauty built-in.
Not squirted in a smelly mess from a plastic bottle.
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