Well this is an unexpected turn. Hmmm.
I've always messed with my hair color. Growing up in Southern California, every time I played outside in the intense high desert sunshine, my hair color lightened by a shade. By the time we moved to the Washington DC area, I was a California blond. It was through a winter there that I discovered that my roots did not agree with my personal perception of my hair color self--I was definitely more of a reddish light brown than a golden blond. A couple of seasons in Utah did nothing to improve the color situation, and by the time I hit college, I was regularly 'adjusting' my roots to the titan blond I thought I was.
Pregnancies further darkened my hair and in my late twenties and early thirties, I bit the bottle and went red. Fast foward to another move to America's third coast and I re-entered the golden blond highlights of my youth. My photographic record looks like an ode to all the hair color mentioned in the Nancy Drew mysteries; titan blond, red, brunette. Nancy, Bess and George.
Fast forward to the hormone-rendering effects of carrying both a boy baby and a girl baby in utero at the same time--I was officially seeing dark brunette roots. After the twins were born, I dinked around with a few more highlights, then threw in the L'oreal towel. It was official--it was time to go brunette and leave it alone.
But guess what?
All those blond highlights through the years had disguised a little follicle phenomenon--I was sprouting some white, and I mean white, little hair visitors. I had dodged the gray bullet for a long time--my mom and dad both went gray very early and my younger brothers have sported a distinguished salt and pepper for a while now. I assumed I was protected from those pesky white bristles, that it was all those pregnancy hormones, one side benefit.
Guess I was wrong.
So I do the whole brunette thing, only to find little white post-it note reminders of time's ongoing march. No biggy, I think. I'll just keep coloring the little guys. I've made my peace. I'm a brunette now, remember?
Except for this.
My white hairs do not accept color. They apparently are segregationists. They do not want a wash of Light Reddish Brown 4R tarnishing their lily roots. They are standing out in firm defiance against all things dye. They have also decided that they will be a completely different texture than the rest of their sister tresses. White, frizzy and defiant--that's the new state of my head.
So what's a girl to do? I think I've hit upon the answer. It was always so obvious, something I've known since childhood. It's the one camouflage for these melanin-challenged follicles. It's the one fix for diminishing gray's distinguishing marks. And it takes me back to my roots...well, okay, my 'roots'....
I simply will return to what I always knew deep down I was.
Golden Titan Blond. I get it from my Aunt L'oreal's side.....