Sunday, May 15, 2011

"My real hair color is kind of a dark blonde. Now I just have mood hair." ~ Julia Roberts

I plan to grow old gracefully.  No botox or nips and tucks for me.  I imagine wrinkles are like the stars on a generals uniform, it shows years of service and experience.  I have visions of myself in old age with long, flowing, silver hair rocking contentedly as the sun sets. No vainly chasing youth for me.

That being said....I recently dyed my greying hair.  I didn't do it to look younger.  I actually like the streaks of silver along my crown.  But I hadn't done anything color-wise with my hair for over a  year, and had a definite two tone effect going on.  Since I couldn't bring myself to commit to a drastic hair cut that would trim the previous color away and leave just the natural gray dappled color, I chose to take the dye highway. 

It was actually part of my Mother's Day celebration.  I took a little time to work on some of the beauty maintenance that I so often ignore.  At the urging of my husband, I chose a deep burgundy color (black cherry to be exact).  I'm naturally a dark brunette and thought a dark hint of red would be both fun and not too far from what nature actually gave me. 

When the time came I locked myself away in the bathroom, dawned the rubber gloves that come in the kit and mixed the potion like some mad scientist.  The color in the little squeeze bottle hadn't quite developed yet and was still a creamy white as I began.  Impatiently I started at the front, knowing that the gray hair surrounding my face would be the most resistant to the new color.  When I've colored my hair in the past, this actually translated into one stop color and highlights.  I was excited at the prospect.

As I worked the magic elixir through my hair, the color began to emerge.  It started as a lite pink tinge.  'Interesting' is the thought that bounced around in my head.  But pink is the start of red, right?.  As time progressed, so did the hue.  It deepened, not to the crimson or ruby color of my dreams but to a dark plum....as in purple.

After I washed it and dried it there was no denying it.  I had dark brown hair with definite purple highlights.  In my eyes I was on the verge of looking like Mrs. Slocombe from the British comedy "Are you Being Served".  If you've ever dyed your hair, you know you aren't suppose to double process it too quickly.  I couldn't dye it again with out risking damage to the hair.  This meant that I was stuck for a day or two as is.   So off to work I went the next day.

Of course I got noticed, but I was surprised at how many compliments I got on it.  Genuine compliments.  I went to the grocery store and the gentleman who sweeps the floors actually came up to me and gave me a little hug, telling me I looked twenty years younger.  On three separate occasions twenty-something year-olds made positive comments on my hair saying, with a slight bit of awe in their voices, how they liked the color. 

Appearently, I'm hip!  Who knew? 

It's been a week now, and I'm growing used to it.  I occasionally get a shock when I look in the mirror.  My husband tells me I look beautiful, but still sniggers slightly when I'm in full sunlight.  When it comes down to it, it really doesn't matter what color my hair is. 

Bleach blonde or raven black, streaked with gray or multi-hued, it doesn't change who I am.  Before, I was more youthful than my gray hair attested to... and I'm not as rave-enabled as my current purple hair might suggest.  Nothing has changed.  Perhaps I might try to correct the color to a more natural tint.  But who knows, I might add pink and blue to my highlights. Outward appearances do not effect who we are inside.

No comments:

Post a Comment