I’m overdue for a standing appointment to cover my roots. I’ve been coloring them since October 2004. I remember the date exactly because of what happened that caused me to go there … to be so self-conscious that I altered nature in the slightest least conspicuous way.
December 1997 was the year I turned 33. Lulu was age six days. We had lots of company to see the new baby and share my birthday cake. My dear friend JD, upon hugging me hello said innocently enough “hey Frosty, you got highlights, they look good”. His wife told him to shut up.
You see, I did not get highlights. My hair was just gray. Nature at work. I wasn’t offended. I loved my friends. Though I did look a little longer at my hair in the mirror that night. I resisted any intervention. I felt I looked okay.
Fast forward to 2004. I was placed in a new position at work. I had been working night shift up until the point where our unit was disbanded. I was grateful to still be employed and with Lulu school-age, I was ready to work days again anyway.
My co-worker had to tell me about this ass hat named “P”. He told her to go ask me something and being new he didn’t know my name. Instead he said “go ask the old lady with gray hair who sits across from G”. My co-worker re-telling me this said she said “who Jill? She’s in her 30’s, that’s younger than me”. To this day, I have no idea why she told me what P had said. Can you spell f.r.e.n.e.m.y?
Anyway, I was travelling to the City of Angels that October for my CPCU conferment. Before I left, I had my first dye job that would be the beginning of many. Every 10 weeks, to every eight, seven, six and then five. Truth be told, going three or four would be better for covering those pesky roots completely. But I stopped at five.
I extended in March … out-of-town. When I was due again 4/20/19, I was sick as a dog. I am not scheduled to go back until end of May. And ugh! That brings me to our lunch convo today.
Me: My hair looks a mess because I’m over due for my roots touch up.
Mother-in-law: Oh at least it looks like the good kind of gray.
Me: Oh no, it’s wiry as hell. So ugly!!
Pony: It’s only ugly, if you’re vain.
And with that I am like What? Wait! I am not vain. Vain IS the epitome of ugly. Vain is inside ugly, not surface physical ugly of which there is none. We are all beautiful in our own way don’t you see?
Hmm. Points to ponder. What will I do? B says “do whatever makes YOU happy” No one around here is making this transition easy for me. Okay peanut gallery, comments please …
As always, more to come.