this should describe a snow man
not my shining head
It was pointed out to me today that when I stand in the sunlight my hair has a silver quality to it. I was all, "An otherworldly silver quality? Like a mysterious young writer who, after she was struck by lightning, could time travel kind of quality?" I was answered with, "Just, I don't know, like old lady silver."
I would like to point out that I am 33. And sure, this past year and a half or so has stressed me out, but still. Silver before I'm 35? Suck it, melanin!
It's like I have this one last defense against being completely silver. It's a weathered shield of auburn hair that sits on top of the granny hair. But my last defense is turning on me. And when I do something like pull my hair back in barrettes, you better jump back. All up under there is enough silver to take my noggin to the Antiques Roadshow and impress the shit out of some nerds.
So what to do? I have experimented with semi-permanent color in the past. My awesome stylist dude made it look great. But now he's off gallivanting around styling famous people's hair for movies and TV shows and I am left channeling Heloise.
I don't have enough money to find a new fancy hair guy, but I DO have enough money to raid the hair care aisle at Target. If I decide to go through with coloring my own hair, though, I should probably videoblog it. I can only foresee explosions and destruction coming from this. Remember when I tried to cook the ham and it resulted in a huge explosion? That was JUST A HAM. Ham, dish, oven… kablooey. This is my HAIR. And CHEMICALS. And a requirement of wearing gloves that will be too big for my hands. And there will be a stopwatch involved, probably, and I lose track of time so easily.
It is a scary prospect.
But is it scarier than being silver-headed at 33?
Is it scarier than the idea of someone asking me if I'm dropping my grandson off at school?
Is it scarier than trying to match Chuck Taylors, a Modest Mouse shirt, and non-ironic hair color?
Is it scarier than having people think I am my husband's elderly sister?
No. No it is not.
So prepare yourselves. I may not be brave enough to vlog it. (I am not even brave enough to say "vlog." What a horrifying word.) But I might just liveblog it.
Please don't let my head explode like a ham. Please, please.