The difference is still a little shocking to me, but I like it. At least today I do. As my hairdresser said, "If you don't like it, we can always put color back in." So it's nice to have an out.
It leaves me asking myself why I went totally white. Here's what I came up with:
- It's almost summer; everyone has a summer hair fling.
- I went to Mt. Sinai for vacation and saw a burning bush.
- I'm showing solidarity for the vanishing habitat of polar bears.
- I wanted to look even more like my mother than I already do (yeah, right.)
- I was feeling old.
Now this stunned me on several different levels. First, I couldn't believe how rude it was; second, I couldn't believe that young people have that much disrespect for older people; and third, it really hurt my feelings. I just kept walking to my cabin, but by the time I got there I had worked up a head of steam, which I promptly unloaded on my poor husband. I thought it blew over after that but, over the ensuing days and weeks, I kept looking at myself with ever critical eyes. I did look old and I didn't like it, so it was time to do something radical. Voilà! White hair. If I'm going to look old, it's going to me on my terms.
I know, pathetic isn't it? So much for aging gracefully. I don't care. This white hair makes me feel powerful, like some coldblooded Scandinavian killer in a Die Hard movie. "Hey smart-mouthed kid on the ship, if you're reading this, look out. Next time you call me 'old lady,' I'm going to kick your ass." I know I should be practicing forgiveness and kindness, but I think the Universe will thank me for this one.
Let me know what you think about the hair. Thanks for stopping by.