Watching the World Go Grey
Mar. 1st, 2004 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redthroatedloonI went to Rite Aid today and picked up a bottle of hair coloring.
I wear my hair pretty short, but I'm also lazy about getting it cut. My usual pattern these days -- especially now that I'm freelancing, so I'm sitting at home most of the time -- is to let it grow out until I have a business meeting, or just can't stand the mop any more. Because my hair grows out instead of down, the grey at the roots is usually hidden by the dyed stuff, and so I don't notice it until I get home from the salon.
Then I notice it. Boy, do I notice it.
My grandmother, according to my mom, never had to dye her hair. It got thinner in her old age, but never changed color. I was sort of hoping that would happen with me, but no -- here they are, bright silver streaks in what used to be a thick hank of reddish brown hair.
I can't even bitch about it to the guy who cuts my hair. Every time I do, he gets enthusiastic. "You don't understand," he says. "A lot of people, it comes in grey, or dull white. Yours is coming in silver. People dye their hair to be the color yours is coming in. It'll be great!"
Except I don't want it to be silver. I want it to be brown. The same brown that I grew up with, and that is part of my idea of what "me" looks like. Dammit.
I wear my hair pretty short, but I'm also lazy about getting it cut. My usual pattern these days -- especially now that I'm freelancing, so I'm sitting at home most of the time -- is to let it grow out until I have a business meeting, or just can't stand the mop any more. Because my hair grows out instead of down, the grey at the roots is usually hidden by the dyed stuff, and so I don't notice it until I get home from the salon.
Then I notice it. Boy, do I notice it.
My grandmother, according to my mom, never had to dye her hair. It got thinner in her old age, but never changed color. I was sort of hoping that would happen with me, but no -- here they are, bright silver streaks in what used to be a thick hank of reddish brown hair.
I can't even bitch about it to the guy who cuts my hair. Every time I do, he gets enthusiastic. "You don't understand," he says. "A lot of people, it comes in grey, or dull white. Yours is coming in silver. People dye their hair to be the color yours is coming in. It'll be great!"
Except I don't want it to be silver. I want it to be brown. The same brown that I grew up with, and that is part of my idea of what "me" looks like. Dammit.
