Today I gave in. I couldn't take it any more. I had tried and I fooled myself I was happy about it. But I wasn't. So I committed hair suicide - and dyed by by own hand.
It all started in April when I debated whether to colour my hair to cover the greys before or after my holiday. Past experience has taught me it's usually better to wait until after holidays as sun, sea and chlorine tends to render it a mucky yellow colour. So I left it.
Ten days in Cyprus au naturel left it beachy, streaky and quite on trend and I didn't even mind the odd grey and white hairs peeking through.
DH said he liked it and pursuaded me to delay the post holiday bleach job and embrace the grey- "grow old gracefully" he said.
The media is full of glamorous greys - even young models on the catwalks this year were apparently sporting silvery locks. My mum's hair has faded to a light blonde with hints of white so with a good amount of sunshine I hoped mine would follow suit.
Two weeks later I was back in Cyprus for another week. My roots were really showing but still more browny-grey than white so I hoped another week of sunshine would help my transformation.
But if anything the roots looked darker and the remaining blonde looked more yellow and today, faced with my image in the mirrors at Dunelm Mill I commented to my friends that I was really not sure about the progression of my dignified ageing .
And because they are my friends instead of giving me cheery but false reassurance they told me that it was fine and lovely and I was rocking the glamorous old lady look, but in their opinion I was no old lady and they felt I should return to my Abba-esque dancing queen image, complete with pale blonde locks. As soon as possible.
A couple of hours later I was back to my usual groomed and root-less look and felt younger, smarter and happier for it. Though that might have been the bleachy fumes affecting my brain.
Typically my husband didn't even notice the change and so far none of the children have commented on it either.
But that main thing is I notice, every time I pass a mirrored surface and as I have said before being blonde for me is more than a hair colour so excuse me while I turn up the Abba and sing:
"I've been so lucky, I am the girl with golden hair
I wanna sing it out to everybody
What a joy, what a life, what a chance! So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?
So I say thank you for the music (and the hair dye)
For giving it to me"
 |
| madmumof7 before the need for bleach |
Ten days in Cyprus au naturel left it beachy, streaky and quite on trend and I didn't even mind the odd grey and white hairs peeking through.
DH said he liked it and pursuaded me to delay the post holiday bleach job and embrace the grey- "grow old gracefully" he said.
The media is full of glamorous greys - even young models on the catwalks this year were apparently sporting silvery locks. My mum's hair has faded to a light blonde with hints of white so with a good amount of sunshine I hoped mine would follow suit.
Two weeks later I was back in Cyprus for another week. My roots were really showing but still more browny-grey than white so I hoped another week of sunshine would help my transformation.
But if anything the roots looked darker and the remaining blonde looked more yellow and today, faced with my image in the mirrors at Dunelm Mill I commented to my friends that I was really not sure about the progression of my dignified ageing .
 |
| Bleached Blonde |
A couple of hours later I was back to my usual groomed and root-less look and felt younger, smarter and happier for it. Though that might have been the bleachy fumes affecting my brain.
Typically my husband didn't even notice the change and so far none of the children have commented on it either.
But that main thing is I notice, every time I pass a mirrored surface and as I have said before being blonde for me is more than a hair colour so excuse me while I turn up the Abba and sing:
"I've been so lucky, I am the girl with golden hair
I wanna sing it out to everybody
What a joy, what a life, what a chance! So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing
Thanks for all the joy they're bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?
So I say thank you for the music (and the hair dye)
For giving it to me"
