My niece received a large package in the mail the other day containing a head.
Specifically, a human female head with long, luscious locks of hair.
My niece is training at Paul Mitchell to be a licensed beautician and tells me this is a normal event.
She uses this head to practice on and resists the urge to nab pedestrians off the street.
I myself have never once dyed my hair, although cutting it off short about two years ago seems to have worked out nicely.
Hubby didn’t put my head in a box and mail it off to advance experimental science.
I am at a point, however, where some grays are showing up (a handful per child; more for the teenagers) and I’m looking into coloring it.
My hairdresser is super excited.
My girlfriends are dismayed.
“Your hair is such a rich brunette, why?” they say.
Because my grays are actually whites and I’m not into the Cruella deVille look.
The Irish in my blood line (we’d get into more mischief in general if we weren’t always working so hard in specific) tends towards dark hair, hot tempers, and an “act first, think later” mentality.
As I’ve made my peace with two out of three of these, it just feels logical to dye my hair red.
A deep, mahogany red.
Maybe gold highlights.
Does it come in copper?
I’m told that once I commit to coloring my hairs, I will have to “maintain” them forever.
Which doesn’t make sense to me.
Hair grows. Everything you do to it is, by nature, temporary.
My OCD and ADHD are thrilled about this, but Hubby acts like the world will end.
I ask my girlfriends, “How bad can it be? You just grow it out and start over, right?”
And they back slowly away in horror, hands on head.
They’ve stopped asking me what hair products I use.
We had to use the facilities at my niece’s place three months ago when our water lines burst.
Opening the shower door to go about my business, I froze.
There were, no joke, almost 50 bottles of product in there.
Where was I supposed to fit?
I looked at my little bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo and felt extremely inadequate.
This was yet another piece to the puzzle of why my daughters take 30 minute showers (“Get out already! You could’ve filled a pool by now!”) and I take five.
There can’t possibly be enough dirt on the planet that it takes that long to clean hair.
I can clean my whole house in that time frame.
With my 2-in-1 shampoo.
I reckon they just get lost in there.
There are a few things on my “bucket list”, and dying my hair is one of them.
I’m not going to be that elderly cat lady with orthopedic shoes and hair in a nice, sensible tweed.
I have an appointment with my hairdresser this Friday the 13th.
But if a head-sized box arrives on your doorstep…run.