Then my light blonde hair started to get darker. Not really any color, just a darker, dirty-hair looking blonde shade. It made me look sad, frankly. (The Tim: "I don't understand why your hair always looks dirty, when I know you wash it." This from a man who *very* seldom says anything about my appearance that is not a compliment.) As an adult, I've more or less always had short hair, because in spite of my imagination, I do not have thick, lush, wavy hair. I have always had thin, fine, straight hair that is so soft, it barely holds a part.
So I decided that since I wasn't able to do much style-wise with my hair, I'd be adventurous and try getting it colored. I wasn't going to try to do it myself, because I am just not good with things like that. Plus, I wanted someone else to blame if it all went south ...
The hairstylist I'd been going to was willing to experiment with me. The end result was a) a cute short cut, and b) an amazing color that was a deep red/brown, but looked like my own hair. As a matter of fact, when I showed up at work that next Monday, a co-worker said, "Oh you went back to your own hair color" and would not believe that I'd always been a blonde! Anyway, this worked really well for a couple of years, and then much to my dismay, that hairstylist retired because she had a second kid. (Don't these people realize their professional obligations???)
Over the next few years, I tried different people and places, with varying degrees of success, but never quite the "click" of the original person. Over the last year, I've tried several places. One of them was pretty amazing, but I was so grossed out by the stylist's filthy workstation, I just couldn't make myself go back. The next time, at a different place, I was pretty pleased, because I thought I had finally found a good fit with a new stylist.
Fast forward to last week. I had made an appt to have my hair cut and colored this past Saturday. Actually I spent most of last week deciding whether or not to get it colored. For whatever reason, I was feeling that since my 60th birthday was coming up, I should just see how much gray I really did have, and how it looked. But then I decided that I would get it colored one last time during my 50s, and work on revealing the gray after that.
The new stylist referenced above? Turned out to be a real bully. He refused to listen to what I wanted as far as color. I should have just said, "Forget the color, just cut it," but in an attack of eejit-ness, I let him talk me into his idea. Which on the surface, sounded good. On my head, though - not so much.
Oh well. Hair grows (mine grows really fast), and I've already made my next appt for a cut someplace else that was highly recommended to me, and is even closer to my house. And since I'll be the apparently magical 60 when I go, I'm gonna let the color grow out until I see how much/what kind of gray hair I have. I'm hoping for a head of gray hair like one of my sisters' has, or like The Tim has - lovely, bright, silvery-white gray.
I'm thinking I'll look a lot like this:
'Cause, you know - I look like this all time just sitting around the house ...
I'll keep you posted. :-)