I began coloring my
hair some time after I turned 60. My sister persuaded me to try it. She’d been
doing it for some time, using a concoction that washes out after 24
shampooings. I liked that idea, because the color would gradually wash away and
not grow different colored roots like permanent hair color (although Chelsea
Handler’s dark roots and blond hair imply this is fashionable). The product was
easy enough to use—mix the chemicals, apply to wet hair, wait 10 minutes, wash
out the chemicals, apply the conditioner, wait 2 minutes, rinse it out, and
you’re done.
My hair is, or used
to be, a medium brown color. When I began using the color wash six years ago—I
chose the shade Pecan, same as my sister—I was covering just a few grey hairs. Now
my hair is shot through with grey and silver threads. Truth be told, there’s
hardly a medium brown hair remaining.
So what’s wrong
with that? It’s Nature’s way. Grey hair signals that a female is no longer a
potential mating partner, at least if the male of the species is seeking to
continue the family line. Grey hair symbolizes years of experience with life,
and presumably the wisdom that comes with it. It connotes the family matriarch,
the doting grandmother, the hard-working mother who has paid her dues and
earned every one of those grey hairs!
So why is this
decision so difficult every six weeks? I should revel in my greyness, maybe
find a product that brings out the best in my silver threads.
Hmmm. No such
products on the supermarket shelves. Nothing but a proliferation of hues to
cover the grey. For grey enhancing treatments, guess I’d have to go to the
“beauty parlor,” that institution beloved of old ladies who have their thin clouds
of white hair shampooed and set every week. Darn it, I’m too young for that!
So, will it be
Tweed or Golden Amber this time? Go for another six weeks of looking more like
my younger self than my real self. Keep the charade going until I feel ready
for the beauty parlor, until I feel as old as my hair.
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