I was a strawberry blonde for twenty years and loved it. People called me the redhead and I loved that as well. However, a few years after I passed forty, I decided it was time to go back to my real color, whatever that was. I’d had boring light brown hair before I became a redhead. My thought was I needed to know what my real color was now and how much gray I had and I should do this while I still looked pretty good. I figured the older I got, the more I might fight looking old, the more I might want to cling to my red hair and rapidly vanishing youth. Didn’t want to become one of those elderly women with pink hair and heavily rouged cheeks who wore white go-go boots.
I figured my hair had darkened over the years so I bought a box of dark brown hair dye and, over the weekend, went back to brown.
The reaction was funny. If you know thirteen-year-olds, you’ll understand this. When I walked into my eighth-grade Spanish class, the students didn’t look at my face. Their mouths dropped open and their eyes were riveted to my hair for the entire fifty minutes. Usually noisy and chatty, they were silent–aghast or horrified.
My friends said, “You had such beautiful hair. Why did you dye it brown?” I was amazed they believed my hair was natural. For goodness sakes, I have brown eyes! And there were times that I didn’t get around to coloring it and had half-an-inch of roots showing. I’d thought everyone knew I wasn’t a natural redhead.
When I became a brunette, I had a little gray which relieved the dark brown my hair had become. LIttle by little, of course, I got more gray and less brown. Recently, I’ve felt very washed out because my skin is so pale–perfect for a redhead–and my hair is so white. I tried bronzer and rouge and darker makeup but none of that helped.
I decided to change my hair color, only a little and just around my face . Truly didn’t want to become a brunette. People might notice. I found a temporary hair color that came in what looked like a large mascara wand. Perfect. Yesterday I opened the package and brushed the dark brown on the gray around my face, not too much. Merely enough so I didn’t look washed out. Looked pretty good.
A few hours later, I reached up to touch my hair. It was hard and had dried in clumps. When I removed my hand, my fingers were brown. I rubbed my hair with a Kleenex. It turned brown. I ran into the bathroom to look at my hair which had turned a garish russet color. I no longer looked washed out. I looked as slutty (hope this word doesn’t offend you but I couldn’t think of another way to say it) as a woman my age can. I immediately took a shower and watched the water turn brown.
Fortunately, it all came out. I do not believe I will try this again.
Have you made any mistakes due to vanity? I’d love to know.