I have been trying to unlock the secret to eternal youth just like everybody else and I think I know where it lives. In the Clairol or Loreal Paris, hair dye box. It also lies with well styled hair. Whether it’s short or long, matters less than it having some layers.
Back in the day, I remember thinking my Grandma was about a hundred years old. She lived in a tiny little Grandma house with a chenille bedspread and a black couch with little shiny silver, pokey threads coming out of it. She baked cookies with too many eggs in them (yuck), her Thanksgiving stuffing was slimy and came out of the turkey’s butt (yuck) and her Christmas tree was silver with a rotating color wheel behind it (weird). She was a nice lady, but between the cat glasses and the short gray hair that was fashioned into a fascinating hard-ish cap of curls, she seemed REALLY old. I recently realized that she was only in her mid-fifties.
TODAY, when you see a woman in her mid-fifties, more often than not, she is in jeans, with beautifully styled and beautifully colored hair. She is wearing make-up. She is usually carrying some kind of fancy purse and wearing flip-flops. My grandma would’ve died rather than wear jeans or flip-flops. Women that age today wear pretty colors and sparkly stuff. They go out with friends to bars and restaurants, not necessarily bingo at church.
My Grandma became a Grandma and immediately started playing the part. Women today become Grandmas and go, “WOW, I’d better step up my game. I have to keep up with these little kids when they come over and when they are gone, I’m gonna PARRTAAAY!!” So they get a nice swingy little cut and a lovely shiny new hair color, and suddenly, they look 30, 35 at the most and they start having fun again.
I started coloring my hair vigorously while preggers with my daughter. Yeah, yeah, it’s bad for the baby, whatever, she came out fine. She was sucking me dry and my hair started to get gray. Wasn’t gonna have it, so I started coloring it. I am naturally a blondie. I was a lot blonder when I was a little kid and it kind of faded and darkened over the years (especially after the baby), so I experimented. I have been really blonde, sort-of blonde, dark red, dark brown (those were bad), strawberry blonde, caramelly blonde, blondish with highlights, blondish with low lights. I am currently strawberry blonde underneath, which fades to a light caramelly blonde with blonder highlights on top. It’s pretty. I get lots of compliments. And it’s long. And layered. When a Mom I’ve known for a number of years recently was having a conversation with me and I told her how old I am (forties) she said, “I didn’t know you were that old! I thought you had your daughter as a teenager!” HAHAHAHAAAA!! “It’s the hair” I told her. “Cut it off, get me a perm and let it go streaky gray and you’ll think I’m fifteen years old than I am.” Her response? “Damn, I need to get to the salon. I haven’t done anything with my hair in years.” She did it and guess what? Instant fountain of youth. Her eyes look brighter, her skin looks firmer and she is walking with a little kick in her step that I’ve never seen.
I also had a convo recently with my girlfriends about when, if ever to stop with the color. My answer? Never. If Armageddon comes, expect to see me out gathering nuts and berries to combine into some sort of all natural color rinse. Just because the world may be falling apart, doesn’t mean I have to.
SO, the next time you feel like you look like you’re old and dying, do your hair. Don’t go straight to Botox or plastic surgery. Get a new ‘do and some nice color and tell everyone you are ten years younger than you are. Oh, and don’t get 1950’s cat glasses. Or a cardigan with a little chain. Chins up!
Be kind to one another and have a great day!! 🙂