Back To My Roots
I am here to admit that I caved.
Yes.
I went back to dyeing.
Miss Clairol, Loreal...whatever's on sale - I'm back!
I needed a lift; a pick-me-up.
And, I saw a woman my age, with completely white hair like mine, and boy! Did she look drab!
I thought, "If she looks that bad, how must I look?"
Answer? B-A-D. O-L-D(er)!
So, off the wagon I went, dye in hand, in hair, on walls, on sink, on toilet seat.
The "old" me is back.
Since the dye job, I've been four different shades of red, auburn, brown.
I've had stained ears, neck, and forehead.
I have to use the darn stuff every two weeks. My brain cells are fried, my head burns, and my scalp is dry.
Ahhhh, now I remember what this was like!
BUT, I turned 46 this past week, and a "younger" gal thought I looked
"About 37!"
Wowser! That beats the lady who thought I was my daughter's grandma.
So, I'll take looking 37 over being mistaken for my kid's grandma any day.
My son's teacher saw me with the new color, touched my arm and said, "Wow, I like that. Do me a favor and DON'T go back to gray."
That's like when you go on a diet and people tell you, "Wow, you've REALLY lost weight. You look great!" Translation: "Man, you were really a fattie before this!"
So, hair color is a choice.
Women can change their minds, and I reserve the right to fling dye all over the bathroom while trying to cover my head with the stuff.
I am woman, hear me roar! (And I'll look only 37 doing it!)
GRRRRRRREAT!
Cheerth!
Yes.
I went back to dyeing.
Miss Clairol, Loreal...whatever's on sale - I'm back!
I needed a lift; a pick-me-up.
And, I saw a woman my age, with completely white hair like mine, and boy! Did she look drab!
I thought, "If she looks that bad, how must I look?"
Answer? B-A-D. O-L-D(er)!
So, off the wagon I went, dye in hand, in hair, on walls, on sink, on toilet seat.
The "old" me is back.
Since the dye job, I've been four different shades of red, auburn, brown.
I've had stained ears, neck, and forehead.
I have to use the darn stuff every two weeks. My brain cells are fried, my head burns, and my scalp is dry.
Ahhhh, now I remember what this was like!
BUT, I turned 46 this past week, and a "younger" gal thought I looked
"About 37!"
Wowser! That beats the lady who thought I was my daughter's grandma.
So, I'll take looking 37 over being mistaken for my kid's grandma any day.
My son's teacher saw me with the new color, touched my arm and said, "Wow, I like that. Do me a favor and DON'T go back to gray."
That's like when you go on a diet and people tell you, "Wow, you've REALLY lost weight. You look great!" Translation: "Man, you were really a fattie before this!"
So, hair color is a choice.
Women can change their minds, and I reserve the right to fling dye all over the bathroom while trying to cover my head with the stuff.
I am woman, hear me roar! (And I'll look only 37 doing it!)
GRRRRRRREAT!
Cheerth!
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