My husband and I sat in the bleachers mentally preparing for the next hour of 6th through 8th graders with loud instruments searching for tempo, correct notes, and some sort of melody, while at the same time restraining ourselves from strapping down the young children who thought stomping up and down the bleachers and making as much noise as possible was a great way to kill time.
Darling hubby turns to me, under the harsh glow of the florescent lights, smiles lovingly and says, "I love seeing all the grey hairs you have."
Yes, I know I'm getting older and I've seen a few greys here and there and I don't pull my hair back in public anymore because they tend to stick out like a sore thumb when I do, and I've noticed more and more in my hairbrush, but, but... I'm blonde and they're like highlights, right?
Right! Wisdom highlights! I'm older and getting wiser. Yes, it says so on Pinterest, so it has to be true.
"I think it's time you bite the bullet and start coloring your hair."* And with that, the 6th grade band began. I picked my jaw up from off of the bleacher in front of me and sat there, wide-eyed, trying to look interested in whatever it was supposed to be that they were playing, while obsessing about how many other people were looking at my head, thinking I'm much older than I am, wanting to put my jacket back on and hide my hair in the hood.
Crap.
*Please note my hubby isn't being mean or judgmental. He knows how I feel about this stuff and knows I've been trying to hold off as long as possible and apparently I can't put it off any longer.
I didn't want to have to start spending money on that. I mean, I'll have to do it myself so it will be cheaper, but it takes maintenance and upkeep - things I don't like to bother with. And I'll have to find the right color. Ugh! Finding the right color isn't easy. Do I stick with my natural color? Do I go a little different and pretend I'm a new person? I could fail miserably and look like a washed out old starlet or a total goth, depending on the route I took. Maybe I should just say screw it and color it all grey so I can match my mother and get it over with.
Oh the stress of vanity and ego! I need a stylist to figure this out for me. Too many other things to think about right now. I'll think about it tomorrow.
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