Did I feel sad about getting the last remnants of my youthful brunette hair (even if it was artificial) cut off? Did I worry about looking older, or like I’d “let myself go?”
I wasn’t always so free and easy about the whole concept of gray hair. In fact, I spent 25 years (or more – I lost count) frantically covering up the gray.
As a teenager, I had lovely dark brown (almost black) hair, but got bored with it in college and started dyeing it various shades of mulberry, magenta, and burgundy.
It was in my late 20s. My husband and I went to Los Angeles’ Chinatown for dinner with friends, and my friend’s husband started to say something and then stopped.
I got caught in a cycle of dyeing my hair to not only cover the gray roots but also to get my hair to look shiny and smooth again. Coloring my hair once a month only left me with good-looking hair for about a week. Ugh!