Location:Home > slippers > I am tired of having my hair dyed. It costs money and time I no longer want to spend. As a matter o

I am tired of having my hair dyed. It costs money and time I no longer want to spend. As a matter o

Time:2019-02-01 20:53Shoes websites Click:

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Finally, after 50 years of dying my hair, I’m ready to debut my natural color.

Alas, by now it is mostly gray. Or maybe that’s white I see there at my roots. I won’t know until more of it grows in, or out. Or whatever.

I’ve been sitting on the fence about “going gray” for a long time. Ever since my hair grew back in after losing it from chemotherapy.

Virgin hair, I reasoned. No more hair color.

But at age 54, I didn’t feel ready for that leap into the mature woman look. Besides, hadn’t I suffered enough with the surgery and chemo?

Instead of dying it myself, however, I decided to get it done at a salon to minimize the damage.

I blame my lifelong habit of bleaching my hair on Sun-In.

Many of us grow up as children with blonde hair. Towheaded, some call it. Then, when we reach the age of 12 or 13, our hair darkens. It does lighten naturally in the sun, but the new growth is brown. Mousy brown, my cousin JoAnn (who was studying cosmetology in the high school “tech” program) called it.

As a teen, I spent many summer days at the beach. Along with my AM transistor radio, a book and tanning oil, the Sun-In — a spray-on hair lightener that’s activated by the sun’s heat — always went into my beach bag.

To do her justice, my cousin did not approve of Sun-In because of the damage it does to hair: drying it out, turning it orange, causing split ends. Neither did any of the stylists who cut my hair during those years.

When I became a mom my beach days became rare. I started buying bona fide hair color at the drugstore.

And so I was usually a blonde. Several times I switched to being a redhead or brunette, but always reverted back to a medium blonde shade.

Now, I am tired of having my hair dyed. It costs money and time I no longer want to spend.

As a matter of fact, now my dog is competing for that money and time. It costs the same amount of both to get his hair cut every other month.

When his hair grows out, it gets all matted and dirty, even with regular baths. You can’t see what’s going on under all that fur. So he actually needs it more than I do.

For the last few years, I’ve been trying to transition by getting my hair highlighted, lowlighted, all-lighted. So much time and effort to delay the inevitable.

A few of my friends have been gray since their 40s and 50s. It doesn’t make them old. It makes them free, comfortable with themselves.

So, I’m just going to let it grow out now. If I feel self-conscious about the line where my blonde hair and white/gray/brown roots meet, I’ll wear a hat. I have a closet full of hats.

I’m viewing this transition as a physical manifestation of “growing more fully into my authentic self.” Whatever.

Going gray is about more than just hair color. It’s an acknowledgment of aging. Not to mention how the new color goes with my hair style, makeup and wardrobe.

Years ago, at a professional women’s conference, the speaker was advising the audience on these matters. She said if you’re wearing an outfit without shoes to match, to have a put-together look you should wear shoes the color of your hair.

So, what, now I need gray shoes? Do you see what I mean?

It’s so much more than hair.

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