To Dye or Not to Dye - THAT is the Question

I think my hair is about 50 percent grey. I say "I think" because I never let the grey do its thing as I dye it so often. Trouble now is that the grey is lots more stubborn than it used to be and I find myself having to touch it up more than ever before. It seems like three weeks is as long as I can go before the temples and edges start sprouting little white wiry hairs. It's exhausting to have to do my do so much, but leaving the grey has been a totally unacceptable concept to me. Until now, anyway.

To save a little cash in these tough economic times, I buy Dark and Lovely or Colorsilk and dye my hair myself, which beats the heck out of paying about $60 at the salon to have it done. But still it has to be DONE, meaning I'm the one who has to don plastic gloves and an old towel every few weeks and do it. It's not hard, but it's extremely time-consuming and messy as all get out. It is such a pain in the butt!

A few days ago, I gave my roots a good long look and figured I could go at least another week before I'd have to break out the jet black hair color I keep on standby under the bathroom sink. But this morning, it looked like a few hundred hair follicles decided to rebel and stop producing color. How such a thing happens I have no idea, but I did know that I had no time to dye, wash, blow dry and curl my hair before I needed to be out the door. Instead, I just curled it and went on about my regular routine. Sure, it was a little shocking seeing my face surrounded by a little white hair halo whenever I passed a mirror, but it really wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Reminded me of a commercial I saw about a week ago. Not sure what the ad was for, but two best friends with white hair (one had a cute little spiked pixie cut) were chatting about how they loved looking like the women of experience they were. The wore their coifs like crowns and even joked that they were going to start telling people that they were in their 80s instead of their 60s. They didn't seem unhappy about looking older at all. They were actually excited about it.

So what is it about a little grey that makes me want to run screaming to the drug store? I have no qualms about aging, I don't think, but somehow LOOKING older gives me pause. Call it vanity or whatever, but I enjoy it when I hear folks tell me that I haven't aged a day at high school reunions and when people ask my son if I'm his sister. But really, what's so good about looking 25 when you're 42? Damn it, I've earned every one of these stinking grey hairs on my head thanks to cancer, burying loved ones and divorce! Why am I in such a hurry to cover them up and get folks I don't really even know to think I'm younger than I am? Have I lost my daggone mind?

This weekend I'll have time to dye my hair, but I'm not sure if I will. So if you see me around town looking like a skunk, just smile and wave, folks. Just smile and wave...