To Dye or Not To Dye?

In exactly 2 days I shall become another decade older. To be more precise, I shall be in my fourth decade. Yep! The great big four-o. And let me tell you, if I get one more phone call from my Mother reminding me about the "big four-o", I am calling her local newspaper and taking out a huge, center page add. Let's see...."Cynthia D., Congratulations on raising such a wonderful, talented, young woman, who is now turning the "big four-o", yeah, that would work. "Let's see....If your daughter is 40, that would make you?", her Republican friends would inquire. Of course, I would have to change my home phone number, my cell phone number and my Email address. However, it would be so worth it!

Any how, I decided about three months ago to go where very few woman at my age consider to go. Can't guess? You'll never guess. Let me just tell you. I decided to go....Hold onto your laptops. I decided to go GRAY! I know, I know, I told you that you wouldn't guess. So yes, after years of covering up, I made the move to bare all. And take it from me, we are not talking a few gray ones poking out here and there. We are talking crazy, out-of-control, wiley grays with a master plan of their own.

Let me just pause here to say to any one who is blessed to not have any, or maybe only have a few wild whiteys in their mane, I hope you keep those lovely, colorful locks of yours. Then one day, just before dawn, on a really important day, you go to take a shower, gaze into the mirror and realize....Your bald!

Only those who have had to darken their hair, just to realize that after about four weeks those damn things just show brighter up than they did before, can relate here. Because after more dye jobs to help you remain natural looking and yoouthful,you find yourself thumbing through endless magizines. There month after tedious month, in copies of US and STAR, are gorgeous women your age, with no gray hair to be seen. We give up. "OK, I'm ready to go lighter!", you tell your hairstylist. Let me add a cautionary statement here. If you decide to go this route, please, for the love of your hair and the possible happiness of your family, make sure your hairstylist knows how to color! I only say this, because after numerous attempts to explain to my first colorist that my true hair color had a great deal of red in it, not to be fooled by my Clairol # whatever....She knew best. So, after about I don't even remember how long, and after a monetary splurge,(if you get my point), I entered that afternoon, spring day with a absolutely lovely shade of orange hair! Hey, pictures do not lie. Worst yet, I have plenty of those pictures, because my family went to Key West a few weeks later to witness my youngest sister-in-law get married. Isn't it always the way. Look like shit, someone is always there with a damn camera, (smile). Look stunning, nobody but your family dog to look at you in admiration as you spin around looking in the full length mirror. They are probably thinking, "Huh, they have an awfully small tail."

So needless to say, after many, many shades, I settled into a new look. A look I have to say only came about because my sister-in-law, the one that is mentioned above, is an excellent hairstylist and can color the world. She lightened my hair, added some highlights, threw in some low-lights for shits and giggles and tada! A brand new me with color that can disguise any gray hair looking to dominate my world. We are talking cam-a-flouge here people. The only problem is....I am a hairstylists worst nightmare. I am always busy and can never remember when to make my next appointment. When I do, it's always a few weeks, sometimes more than a few weeks later than it should be. Then it's the money.

I will be the first to say, I am cheap when it comes to spending money on myself. But I have found most Mothers feel bad splurging on themselves. Somewhere, someone, a man perhaps, (smiling), decided to make Mothers feel horrible guilt if they spent money on themselves. I'm pretty sure it started out something like this: "Sure Honey, you can get your hair done today....I was going to take Johnny Jr. to the ballgame this week, but we can put that off for another time." Can't you just feel the guilt. If you can't, you must be one of those bad Mommys.

Any how, I make an appointment to get my hair trimmed up and remind my sister-in-law there will be no more coloring going on up there. "It's time", I say proudly. "I am ready to enter this next chapter of my life. I am ready to accept my age. We can't all have youthful hair forever. Anyway, who came up with this concept that to remain youthful and sexy, women have to color their hair? A man, that's who, (wink). Men turn forty, get gray and all of a sudden their distinguished. Yeah, OK. Well, I want to feel distinguished. I want to age gracefully. Stop laughing!"

A few short weeks later, after having ALL the women in the salon gasping and laughing at me over my "aging gracefully" speech, I was at the mall with my family. The three teens ditched us "old" people to browse the cool stores, while my hubby and I went to our cools spots....The food court for a coffee and then the nearest book store. I was feeling good. I felt a type of liberation if you will after I made this monumental decision. I had my hair pulled back in a low bun, very mature like. I was even, can I say, feeling quite the sexy woman. Then my handsome hubby leaned in closely. I leaned forward, waiting to hear he too noticed my new found freedom and just how good it looked on me.

"Wow", he said. I began to blush. I know, what a girly thing to do.

"You really do have a lot of gray", he remarked as he leaned back and took another sip of his coffee with a smile.

The very next day I text my sister-in-law. "Are you working tomorrow. I give up! Need a dye job and bad."

"Hahaha! I knew you'ld cave", she text back. The hairstylist victorious!

Yes, some ideas are always the best ideas. But I know one idea that is....You can never love yourself enough. So, as my sweet hubby is watching TV in happy football land, I head upstairs. I look in to find my lovely teens are hanging out together. I should be worried. They are probably thinking of some revengeful thing to pull off when we are OLDer, I close their door. I enter my haven and guiltlessly shut the world out. I turn on my TV and tune in the music channel, Singers and Standards. It's one of my faves. As I listen, My Funny Valentine plays on, soothing my stress away. I turn on the water faucets and draw myself a bathtub full of soft, fluffy, white bubbles. I bring in my vase of Latin Lady roses, newly purchased by yours truly, light some candles and place them about. Then happily, I slip into a luxurious, warm bath, music sensually playing with piano and horns, candles giving off a soft glow and the roses. Those lovely, lovely roses. You know what I love most about roses....They open up, get more vibrant in color and get more fragrant WITH AGE.