Do Blonds Have More Fun?

            “Only her hairdresser knows for sure” are words that have been uttered for many years – going way back to a time when changing the color of one’s hair was something most women didn’t do.  But as time progressed and home kits for dying hair became available, the option of changing hair color really seemed to catch on. 

             Way back around 1959 a co-worker of mine had decided having a wide blond streak in her hair would be very attractive – and it looked ok for a while until she decided to try another color for her whole head.  As we all glided into work one Monday morning, there she was, sitting at her desk with her hands over her face and we couldn’t help but notice her ‘blond’ streak was now an unflattering green color.  Oops.  When all else fails, it’s time to read the directions.

             A few years later it was a toss-up between my mother and my sister as to who dyed their hair most often.  But they were two peas in a pod – daring ladies who were full of fun.  Not at all like me, the prim and proper serious one.  To each his own, I always said  - dying my hair was just not something I ever considered.  I just watched the other two women in the house spend their money, be disappointed at their efforts, complain about how hard it was to manage their hair and how often they had to buy another kit to redo their hair so their true roots wouldn’t show.  That was enough for me.

             That was until I was married about four years.  Having your hair streaked blond was very popular at that time and for some reason, I needed a ‘lift’.  We lived far away from home so if it didn’t turn out, my family wound never know about it – they probably wouldn’t have believed I was brave enough to give it a try anyway.  And so, I gathered up my courage and made the appointment.  It was a very long process and at first the streaks were an awful orange color (I now experienced the horror my green-haired friend felt).  The only difference was that I was still at the hair salon and another treatment soon got rid of the orange and changed it to a very light brown.  The end result was something I was quite happy with although I knew it would take some getting used to and I was proud of myself for venturing outside my shell.

             But that’s not the end of the story.  The first familiar face I saw as I exited the hair salon exclaimed, “It makes you look older!”  (Just what every woman wants to hear.)  That did it, I vowed to return to my mousy brown and stay there - which I did for the next 22 years or so.  In 1979 my father passed away and it was a tremendously traumatic experience for me – and when I returned to my home about 10 days later, I noticed I had suddenly developed a gray streak of hair that hadn’t been there previously.  

             Over the years the gray hair multiplied and I was just grateful that it seemed to come in evenly – I accepted it.  Gentle suggestions that it was time to dye my hair fell on deaf ears as I felt I had no interest in changing what nature dictated I should have.

             But my attitude towards dying my hair has changed lately and it’s all because of some reactions I have received because of the visual picture I project with my gray hair.  I have been talked down to by store clerks, called ‘Dear’ by others in a manner that suggested they were being ‘kind’; one clerk even helped me to count the change I had placed on the countertop as if I couldn’t count it all myself; a doctor’s receptionist whom I hadn’t met before spoke extra slowly to me and extra loud – was I annoyed?  You betcha.   Am I sensitive about my gray hair – not in the least!  I earned every strand and am quite happy where I’m at in this time and place.

             After experiencing this ‘senior moment’ several times, I have come to the conclusion that gray hair must signify to some that I am slow to understand, unable to count and am ready for the rocking chair with the afghan over my lap.  While I’ll admit to enjoying the rocking chair and an afghan sometimes help take away the chill, I’m not ready to be treated as anything less than what I am – a capable adult who still has all her faculties and just wants to be treated as another human being.

             But what do I have to do to accomplish this?  Dye my hair blond – would that make a difference?  Do they really have more fun?  Is it too late to pick up where my sister and mother left off?  Should I move outside my shell again (threw it away many years ago)?  As I slowly stroll down the department store aisle that contains the hair dye kits, I find that I’m not tempted in the least.  Besides, even if I did ‘do the deed’ how would my new hair color look with all the facial wrinkles?  Should I be strolling down the Botox aisle as well?  Naaahhh.  What you see is what you get.  I will just have to find a way to educate those that associate gray hair with the onslaught of senility.  The two seldom go together.

             To all you ladies who have inherited gray hair regardless of your age – be proud of each strand, as it is a sign of wisdom and maturity and don’t let anyone treat you other than how you deserve to be treated – with dignity and respect.