Washing That Gray Right Outta My Hair

Friends, my hair is gray.  There is no denying it.  Every three weeks I am reminded just how gray it is.  I can pretend for a couple of weeks, but on that third week, I'm always a little surprised.  It's like I forget how much gray hair I really have, and I have a LOT for a 40 year old.

In high school, my friends would pluck out my grays as I walked down the hallway to class.  At my first teaching job, my wonderful 8th grade students would say, "Miss Smith, you have gray hair." They would comment from time to time that I seemed to be getting more.  Thanks.

I knew it was time to do something about all of this gray when my 90 year old grandma said, "Holy Toledo, look at all of the gray hair that you have!"  Yes, I looked across the table to my own mother for support, and I noticed that she hardly had ANY grays on her head.  If grandma was noticing it, it was time to get myself to the nearest box of Clairol.

Coloring my bushy, thick hair myself was a disaster.  I ruined towels, shower curtains, bathroom rugs and all kinds of clothes.  I was never meant to be a stylist.  I turned to professional help at the ripe old age of 30.

It started with a color appointment every 8 weeks.  Then it was 6.  Then 5, 4, and now I am down to coloring my hair every three weeks.  My friends, who could not believe that I was actually getting a proper professional job if it only lasted that long, referred my to their master stylist.

I love my friends, I really do.  I was especially thankful on Saturday as I sat in the chair across from the salon receptionist to pay my bill.  My hair was silky, fabulous and no longer gray.  It took four hours with the master stylist, but I was looking like a million bucks.

Glancing around the posh reception area, I realized that I had never sat down to pay my bill at any salon.  That is when the friendly receptionist told me that I owed $360.00.  Good thing I was sitting.

I nervously fingered my visa, and tried to calculate what kind of tip one had to respectfully leave on a four hour, $360 dollar visit to the salon.  I felt my face getting red as I handed my visa over.  Would my card be denied?  Would I have to sweep or shampoo to pay off my debt?

I made it safely out of the salon and back home.  I am still in shock.  I'm considering embracing my gray...or at least trying to color my hair in the shower at the gym.  I'll be spending extra time there now that we will be eating Kraft macaroni and cheese for dinner all this month and next.