Anyone who knows me knows, I have WHITE.ISH – Hair.
white-ish – depends on lighting
So here is the low down…today I was in a store. Apple store to be exact.
An employee asked me to take my winter hat off. What? I asked Yes, my hat. So cut to the chase: she wanted to see my hair. Yep. My hair. Then proceeded to tell me about hair and her albino grandmother…her boyfriend with the long luscious locks. And how hair this/that…when first asked to take my hat off I actually said “not sure where this is leading but I will not remove my shirt in this store after my hat just so you know.” (she did chuckle, well more of a nerd snort)
I have a HAIR thing. I am not fond of my hair. I had hair color. I had wave/curls/body – when I had color. I had different hair at one time. When younger I was not fond of that color either but looking back, as we all do from time to time…I think that I should have LOVED it. (Much like my butt, knees, eyebrows, fingernails…)
As I aged my hair changed. By the time I got married I was fully white – well not fully but in the back it was still darker (some call it DISHwater – pretty right? NO? come on well, it kind of was- now that I have NO color, in most certainly was. DISHwater is more of a color then WHITE-ish (not dawn blue dishwater, that is a whole different dishwater). I got just plain ol tired of coloring it. The money/ the upkeep. Way to much for lazy me.
So, I just let it go. IT went and some.
Then I started to not like it so – I went through a series of trials to color it.
First time – I went professional – it did not work well. My call with my mom was her just laughing and laughing and laughing…a week or so went by and my Nonny passed away and I knew if I went to that funeral with that hair result – well it would have been the death of me as well, my mom would have been Horrified. But, in the end I had PAPAYA colored hair – yes you read that right. I went to things with this hair. THIS fruit-a-fied color. A fruit. It was so
pretty, great, not noticeable terrible. First I had the funeral and while in chicago, I ended up at a crate and barrel and the worker there (what is with workers and my hair) mentioned he LOVED my hair color but they were not allowed to have UNNATURAL hair colors so he could never do that…sweet, sweet man. I ended up going back in to the salon and she put in “highlights” to lessen the overall orange/pink fruit cocktail I was sporting…it was then, we got the call that the Read Family was doing a family photo. Yes I am in it. Yes I look like a clown. Yes it is bad. UPSIDE they failed to put me in the end so there is no way to cut me out of the photo! I am there…I had officially left my mark. an Orange/Pink sherbet streak of goodness, no doubt.
Last time – right after having Theron, as many of you will attest – the BEST time to make major decisions on hair, I figured I could do no worse than the professional. My younger brother was getting married. I did want to look like the OLD sister, still overweight from Theron, and looking, feeling dull white haired and lame. So I colored it. OMG (as the hip kids say) it was
horrible, festive, shocking, just plain wrong. It turned a lovely shade of Gothic Black. AGAIN, I knew my mother would kill me, she’d laugh first but – the killing would take place in a slight slow way – with looks and side comments. Do you hate your brother? Did you not think of all the people we would see, no no they will love it. Theron cried, he did not recognize me…I am sure I cried harder. I went got another kit (again decisions are just snapping left and right, no harm coloring hair three days in a row right?) – lighter of course but, still WORSE…Finally – Gave in (my theme) called the professionals. Now, if you get your hair did, done, do’d…you know that there are rules…Never cut your own, Never Cheat on your stylist, and don’t screw with hair color…Stylists HATE that kind of stuff…she did what she could…I ended up with what the professionals call, prepare for the high-tech term: COTTON Candy hair – yes similar to papaya but now it just pulls apart off your head. I of course wanted to avoid looking a spinster but it turns out I looked more like one then ever…she finally said – well, I can get it back white, BUT I will have to cut it – not just cut it – CUT IT. FINE! well it ended up to be about ? less than to almost an inch long all over…IN the end…instead of looking old – I looked like the porky white boy in a strapless dress. UPSIDE: people thought our family was so NOUVEAU…(you make your assumptions)
I stopped. Stopped. That and my hubby saying “really? do you want to touch your hair ever again? Leave well enough alone”. See being married to the black and white man has its privileges, UPSIDES…he has the knack of making you hear ‘DUH’ every time he tells you something or ‘told you so’.
I then decided I liked it. I had the same hair color as basically my dad, my aunt, my papa, it was a family. It tied me to them. It for the first time, something I should remember makes me Unique. Not everyone has WHITE-ish coloring. I had my mom’s color. This was something people commented on. As my mom got ill, I loved that we had similar features, especially our hair. It meant she was mine. We shared something not jut emotional but physical. When she lost her hair, I felt like I should carry for her I wore it as a torch – In her honor. She wondered if her hair would grow back that color and was thrilled as starting to come back that color. I thought – I SHOULD love this, she does. wear it well. Still have not found a style but am still wearing it.
So, here I am. White-ish. It is just me. I am constantly being asked questions about it. I miss having my mom around to show people (still have dad, aunt to share with) but for some reason when mom was there it was a bond bond. Where do I get it colored? Do they do something special? Do I like it. I never really know how to answer then – no no no sometimes all come out as answers. I do feel washed out, pale, plain…and yes do I miss pigment. Yes, many days I do wish I had honey hair with luminous highlights. Yes. Yes. Yes. But some badges that you wear are not as shiny. They flash internally. I wear my badge with my white hair.
Am I Going to do anything about it.. NO! Turns out in my book – the grass (hair) does turner greener…but sometimes it is not the shade of grass – but the quality, and who planted it.
p.s. I promise to find photos, just did not have time tonight. I promise.