Friday, June 16, 2006
Color me bad.
So it was never much of a secret that for the majority of my undergraduate years (that's the first set of undergraduate years under the W&M column, complete with papers -- not to be confused with this second run in the undergraduate sector where I am eternally perturbed at my underaged classmates.) I was a staunch supporter of Clariol, specifically, 112A, medium reddish auburn. I reddened my hair, which, at the time, worked for me. It worked for me working for other people as well, in fact. I had a suitor once tell me that he loved my hair color so much and added, hey, did *I* know that women actually dyed their hair to have color just like this? -- No, Romeo, really?
I was blessed in that for the number of years that I did purchase and use these products, that I had surprisingly few mishaps. I got cocky a few times and tried a few shades off the norm and duly suffered the consequences of the dreaded re-dye or the hair-washed-so-many-times-it-will-never-be-dirty-again.
I once, accidentally, dyed my hair nearly black, like goth-black, a few mere days before a very important scholarship interview last year. The betrothed covered his ass with, "I can't really tell the color in this light, so much. I'm sure you're fine (cue him leaving the room promptly and avoiding eye contact for the rest of the night)." My boss at the office the next day was a little more straight forward and had the ever comical mid-sentence shock of noticing, "Cathy, I was going over your reports and I ... holy shit what did you do to your head? Oh, baby, you gotta do something about that mess." Alas, I got the scholarship -- so either they really thought I was pretty stellar academically or that the money would help me find a good stylist.
Either way, when I started back to school in the fall, I came to a big conclusion. NO MORE. I didn't envision myself spending an evening a month locked in my bathroom with some-such nursing textbook on my lap while my head stewed in ammonia. I spent several weeks coloring back and forth attempting to locate my own holy grail: my natural hair color. It had been years since I'd seen it. No one quite remembered what it was. After a few tries, a clever combination of dyes managed to cover the years of medium-reddish auburn and with one final boon, the Clariol gods smiled on me and I found natural-hair-color peace. And no visible roots.
For months now I've been au natural. Sometimes I catch myself walking down the dye aisle and let my eyes land on 112A. I even have a box hidden under the sink, just in case the craving gets too bad. But, I have resisted. Until now.
I came home yesterday from a particularly grueling week at the hospital and caught a special glimmer in my hair. Upon closer inspection I came to the gruesome realization that every late-twenty-something year old dreads: a gray hair. After a 15 minute quest, I located the hair and about four of his evil brethren. They were all exiled and deported immediately.
But what now? After this colored attack, how am I to pick up the pieces (or strands)? Did years of coloring only hide the grays I should have seen and come to terms with earlier in my twenties? If I color again now will I only be deluding myself until the grays revolt and take over somewhere thirty or forty years from now? Do I really want to make that commitment again to my follicles?
How early are people finding grays these days? Ah, until I devise my plan of attack, I'm on the hunt.
I was blessed in that for the number of years that I did purchase and use these products, that I had surprisingly few mishaps. I got cocky a few times and tried a few shades off the norm and duly suffered the consequences of the dreaded re-dye or the hair-washed-so-many-times-it-will-never-be-dirty-again.
I once, accidentally, dyed my hair nearly black, like goth-black, a few mere days before a very important scholarship interview last year. The betrothed covered his ass with, "I can't really tell the color in this light, so much. I'm sure you're fine (cue him leaving the room promptly and avoiding eye contact for the rest of the night)." My boss at the office the next day was a little more straight forward and had the ever comical mid-sentence shock of noticing, "Cathy, I was going over your reports and I ... holy shit what did you do to your head? Oh, baby, you gotta do something about that mess." Alas, I got the scholarship -- so either they really thought I was pretty stellar academically or that the money would help me find a good stylist.
Either way, when I started back to school in the fall, I came to a big conclusion. NO MORE. I didn't envision myself spending an evening a month locked in my bathroom with some-such nursing textbook on my lap while my head stewed in ammonia. I spent several weeks coloring back and forth attempting to locate my own holy grail: my natural hair color. It had been years since I'd seen it. No one quite remembered what it was. After a few tries, a clever combination of dyes managed to cover the years of medium-reddish auburn and with one final boon, the Clariol gods smiled on me and I found natural-hair-color peace. And no visible roots.
For months now I've been au natural. Sometimes I catch myself walking down the dye aisle and let my eyes land on 112A. I even have a box hidden under the sink, just in case the craving gets too bad. But, I have resisted. Until now.
I came home yesterday from a particularly grueling week at the hospital and caught a special glimmer in my hair. Upon closer inspection I came to the gruesome realization that every late-twenty-something year old dreads: a gray hair. After a 15 minute quest, I located the hair and about four of his evil brethren. They were all exiled and deported immediately.
But what now? After this colored attack, how am I to pick up the pieces (or strands)? Did years of coloring only hide the grays I should have seen and come to terms with earlier in my twenties? If I color again now will I only be deluding myself until the grays revolt and take over somewhere thirty or forty years from now? Do I really want to make that commitment again to my follicles?
How early are people finding grays these days? Ah, until I devise my plan of attack, I'm on the hunt.
# posted by Cathy @ 1:38:00 PM 
Comments:
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Cathy, several months ago...as my natural color really started showing, which is a frustrating blend of black, brown, and bright blonde pieces leaving me with the oh-so-uninteresting "dirty blonde" in the end...I started finding BRIGHT WHITE HAIRS...and yes, they come in groups. So, occasionally, when the urge is strong, I hunt them down and deport them as well. Also, David has more and more white hairs popping up all the time. Think "character."
# posted by 
: 11:00 AM
: 11:00 AM
I have a couple gray hairs that sprout out of the crown of my head. They are removed immediately upon discovery, of course, but they inevitably make an appearance later. *sigh* My mom went gray at age 18, I guess I should consider myself lucky.
-Amanda
-Amanda
I swear I tried to leave a comment already but I must have hit the wrong button or something absurd.
I will try again.
I started finding my little snow white strands several months ago and have since had mirror sessions during which I hunt each and every one down until my neck hurts from cocking it and my eyes cramp up. They DO have friends...evil little bastards.
And David is becoming just so slightly salted.
With grace, we shall do it with grace!
I will try again.
I started finding my little snow white strands several months ago and have since had mirror sessions during which I hunt each and every one down until my neck hurts from cocking it and my eyes cramp up. They DO have friends...evil little bastards.
And David is becoming just so slightly salted.
With grace, we shall do it with grace!
# posted by : 10:23 PM
: 10:23 PM
I just realized that you must approve these comments and that is why none of them are showing up.
I could have just left it alone and waited but since your hands are all bound up by human insides and medical textbooks, I thought I'd take this opportunity to just harass you.
Because you're fairly defenseless at the moment.
Seriously, best impression ever: you imitating your cat bathing.
Second best: you playing that rock in those two-character-one-woman skits we had to do.
I saw something nasty in the woodshed. I am still a slow reader. David can read at least 4 pages to my 1.
An old friend of mine from W&M once told me a story about Anthony Hopkins. Of course, a friend told him, etc. but it's funny. During auditions (theater, not film) for some play, after an actor finished, Anthony Hopkins, in his proper, matter of fact English accent, declared: "You are far too short for classical theater. (beat) Give it up."
Have you seen Titus? It's disgusting...but positively BRILLIANT. It's what theater would look like if transformed to film...not as in filming a stage production...I'm talking true metamorphosis. The disgusting part is not the director...it's all Shakespeare...a rather disturbing play altogether. But, again, genius.
Also I miss you.
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I could have just left it alone and waited but since your hands are all bound up by human insides and medical textbooks, I thought I'd take this opportunity to just harass you.
Because you're fairly defenseless at the moment.
Seriously, best impression ever: you imitating your cat bathing.
Second best: you playing that rock in those two-character-one-woman skits we had to do.
I saw something nasty in the woodshed. I am still a slow reader. David can read at least 4 pages to my 1.
An old friend of mine from W&M once told me a story about Anthony Hopkins. Of course, a friend told him, etc. but it's funny. During auditions (theater, not film) for some play, after an actor finished, Anthony Hopkins, in his proper, matter of fact English accent, declared: "You are far too short for classical theater. (beat) Give it up."
Have you seen Titus? It's disgusting...but positively BRILLIANT. It's what theater would look like if transformed to film...not as in filming a stage production...I'm talking true metamorphosis. The disgusting part is not the director...it's all Shakespeare...a rather disturbing play altogether. But, again, genius.
Also I miss you.
# posted by : 10:33 PM
: 10:33 PM << Home
