I have been standing strong against the hostile takeover by my gray hair for some time now. I was managing the red-now-white streak fairly well, with strategic hair styles and occasional dye jobs. And I kept trying to tell myself that if Stacy London sports a gray streak, then by golly it must be what to wear.
But now those little white fuckers are popping up outside of the confines of the aforementioned streak and I fear that the salt and pepper look is imminent.
It's sexy on a 55 year old. Maybe. But on a 31-year-old, it's just never good.
It would be one thing if I left the house each day decked out in a way that could sell the graying hair as part of my fashion forward style sense.
Didn't you know? Gray is the new black, people!
[comma added so my black friends don't think I'm trying to turn them all gray. heh]
But thanks to my "mother-on-the-go" look, which often includes wearing the same shirt two days in a row since it doesn't have food stuck to it, the extra gray just makes me look like I can't afford to get my hair done.
And worse, it just screams "pity."
Having a rough go at it, huh sweetie?
It wasn't such a huge issue when I had tons of hair to spare. I'd just grab the tweezers and remove them. And even if I didn't get a chance to twirl my tweezers, you'd have to be a parasite-seeking mommy monkey to find them.
But now they're popping up everywhere. And I'm sorry people but I just don't have a hair to spare.
I've even considered going blonde since apparently intentional dark roots are cool, but the truth is, a regular hair dye regimen just doesn't fit into my fairly low maintenance lifestyle. Besides, considering the amount of hair dye that I will have to use, I want to actually have hair in a few years.
Because if the salt-n-pepper 'do brings pity, we all know what comes with a bald head.
(Any hairemedies are welcome. I think.)