Being the good little hypocrite that I am, I decided to forgo my resolve to go gray gracefully by adding a few highlights to my hair.
This isn't the very first time I've highlighted my hair, actually. I did so once before, back in my pre-gray days. Just for grins and because . . . uh . . . I'm not sure why, actually. I think my hairdresser talked me into it because I'm not one to artificially enhance my physical appearance beyond a bit of blush and a coat of mascara. So yeah, I'll just blame her.
But the gray hairs are coming in fast and furious of late so I started paying attention to the manes of my gorgeous friends, which includes just about every female I know - they're just all gorgeous. What I noticed is that I seem to be the only salt-n-peppered one in the bunch; they all color.
I know it's all the rage to add those big, bold, chunky highlights that contrast greatly with one's natural hair color. And I think it looks all fun and cute on everyone else. As for myself, however, I'm a color weenie with a strong aversion to sporting anything which God Himself did not genetically endow me. It's my own weirdness that I do not impose upon those who alter their physical appearances. Except for Michael Jackson-type freakishness; that sort of thing absolutely crosses the sanity line.
I have a big, French nose that could use a bob. Extensions would help my non-existent eyelashes. A few surgical tucks here and there (and there and there and maybe there), a few years of serious dieting and exercise, weekly manicures, daily facials, some body wraps, lip and eye liner tatoo-ing, tanning beds, a few gallons of waxing....Yeah, given all that I could, MAYBE, approach the world's standards of physical female beauty.
But seriously, I don't even have the guts to buy a bottle of Miss Clairol.
Some things, like hair color, are temporary and reversible. No harm done, really. I could go there. If I thought it looked 100 percent natural, didn't require constant upkeep and was cheap enough to not cause me any fiscal guilt, that is. So, now we know the real reasons I don't; it's the upkeep, right? Yeah. 'Cause I can't even keep up with my laundry, much less my hair.
Well, I did not get the hip, cool, big, chunky, high-contrast highlights. I almost didn't get any highlights at all, in fact. My hairdresser (a different one from yesteryear) and I had a difficult time agreeing on what should be done. I wanted little, skinny highlights. She wanted to put in hip, cool, big, chunky ones. She wanted to put in caramel highlights and I wanted the same color red as my daughter's hair. Which any hairdresser will assert is the same color envied by women everywhere but hairdressers never seem to be quite able to emulate. (I guess God reserves a few colors that only He can apply to a head and my daughter just happens to be a recipient of that particular grace.) My hairdresser argued that the two colors would blend together too much and I wouldn't be able to notice them as well unless I did big, chunky stripes. I argued that that subtlety was my goal. She maintained it would be too subtle and what was the point. I countered that the point was at the top of MY head.
So we compromised. I got two colors, caramel and almost-my-daughter's red. They're not big, chunky, highlights but they are bigger than the skinny ones I initially went in for.
It turned out fine. The colors are nice. It looks very natural. And I still have enough gray to keep me humble.
'Cause if I was gorgeous it would just go to my pointed head and I'd be more obnoxious than I already am.






