I’ve been coloring my hair for a while now. When it was growing back after chemo I was a little surprised at the amount of gray. Forty was much too young to be that gray as far as I was concerned. So I colored those babies as soon as I could and I haven’t stopped since.
The cost for salon coloring is ridiculous and I swear to you my hair is on steroids or something because within two weeks those little white roots start showing themselves at my temple. Yes. My temple. Like I’m a distinguished man or something.
A little voice inside my head has been telling me to stop the madness, but was able to ignore it for a while. It is a frightening thought. And not even the being gray part, but the going gray part. Of course, the being gray part scares me a little, too. I already have enough self esteem issues with all this post-chemo weight that I haven’t been able to shed in nearly 9 years. If I have to be fat, fine. But do I really have to be fat and look old, too? (Yes, I said the F-word, something I’m not comfortable with. But let’s just be honest and call a spade a spade, m’kay?)
I had an appointment for a cut and color yesterday, a little sooner than usual because we have a wedding to go to this weekend. As I was perusing the Yahoo articles on my news feed earlier in the day I came across this:
The article was a nice little blurb on how to transition from coloring to gray and it got me thinking. Or I should say it made me stop and listen to that voice that’s been nagging me for some time now. I even considered cancelling my appointment, but there’s that wedding this weekend.
Before I can truly to commit to something like this I have to go to the expert. In this case, the expert being my friend, Terri, who has perfect hair. Seriously perfect hair. All.the.time. So I began telling her about my deliberations and before I could even finish she guessed where I was going. DO IT, was her response.
So I think I’m going to give it a go. And I’m going to chronicle it right here for all the world to see. I may even include pictures. Don’t hold me to that one, though.
Oh wait! I haven’t told Mr.Jenster. I should probably tell him before I publish this. Hold on.
Okay. I just told him and he’s good with it.
So there you have it. You are welcome to come along this adventure with me. There may be tears. There may even be some cursing (but nothing too bad). I have no idea. All I know is that I will have saved a ton of cash by this time next year. I may look like I’m 100, but I’ll be better off. Right?