H is for...

...Hair.

And being done with it!

Dearest Sister and myself in our dancing regalia...yes, we danced...and regaled...after a fashion.

What it was way back.

Still blonde, but not so naturally.

What it used to be at much trouble and expense.

Solid silver...at least that is my term for it!

And now....au naturelle!

I have been growing out FOREVER! Or for a year and a half, at least.

I have a couple of stories about how slowly I believe my hair grows, about the growing out experience, and about my length judging-impaired hair stylist, in these various links.

About 10 days ago, when it was time for a trim, I told my old friend, the stylist, to layer it up, and get the rest of it off. No matter the pain of layers (and I believe them to be a pain), no matter the inconvenience of hair shorter than I like (and it is), no matter that I am helpless, clueless, and inept in any styling on my own beyond...basically what I know....I said 'take it off, take it all off.'

Since that fateful day, it has not looked like the above photo.

I have had many compliments. Alas, I do not feel deserving of them.

I feel my hair is flippy. I feel my pony tail is full of sticky up ends. I keep seeing, out of the corner of my eye, the short ends at my cheeks and think someone is there!

Ah well. A necessary process to the desired end. But I know how long it will take to grow out....

My Hair

This past weekend I had a chance to see how others see my hair. I have been growing out the color for about a year, best guess, give or take a month.

Brief recap. I was very blond when little, as a young girl, and as a teenager, with or without Sun-In (can I get a witness?). Shortly after my babies started arriving, hair started darkening, and by the mid-30’s, it started to lighten up again….but with a distinctly different tint, a grey-ish glint.

I remember my mother only as having a head of silver hair, and expected to have the same, but when I was caught with a camcorder (early 90’s and that’s what they were!)…shock horror! I had brown hair with ‘Bride of Frankenstein’ streaks. I looked so dowdy. I was also trying to find a new job out of state. Steps needed to be taken. A drastic solution for a desperate situation, as it were.

So the coloring of hair started. And so it continued…to last year, when I decided I so over it. My length-impaired stylist did some last color magic to ease the grow out pain, and the change began.

It has been neither unpleasant, nor dramatic. I had been coloring blonde, and the front/top of my hair is very light naturally. Not much change in other words. I am keeping it longish, shoulder length, so there is some blonde on the ends still. My hair grows sooooo slow. And like many other things in life, a gradual change comes to seem like no change until we meet up with someone who sees it.

So this weekend, Wonderful Guy and I go to our local mall for a few errands. I duck into a clothing store to check out the end of the season sales, find some likely prospects, and go to try them on. Wonderful Guy comes into the store after a while, is approached by a sales person, and he says he believes his wife is in a dressing room. He attempts to describe me, saying ‘she has…’ and the salesperson attempts to help ‘…white hair?’

I have white hair to a complete stranger.

White. Hair.

What did I expect? I am not sure, but to hear it put to words…it just feels a bit mature…which is what I am, I know….but maybe isn’t exactly what I feel.

Just yet.

Don't overlook 'my unremarkable contest'. Comments will be considered through Friday, 5PM.