Don't Wash A Good Man Out of Your Hair

                
  I am going gray. I'd like to say I just noticed it; but in fact, it was more than ten years ago that the silver glinted in the sunlight reflected in my rear view mirror. At first I was a little confused and thought how neat it was that the blond of my childhood was suddenly making a reappearance. Alas, the mistake realized, Miss Clairol and I became good friends. No longer was it just for fun, now instead of blonding myself, I only wanted to be my natural color before my natural color became gray.


Because my mom is a hair stylist, paying for hair stuff had never been an issue and before the gray set in never a necessity. Time and distance does tend to change things a bit. It became a priority to deal with the graying on my own. Initially pulling them out myself worked. Later when the kids would ask how they could earn a little money I had one of them do it for me. They called it the silver mine. Now if I pulled them all, the problem would cease to be the gray and start to be the bald spot(s).

Sparta tells me he thinks gray hair is sexy. Whether he says this to save money or just placate me, I'm not sure. In any case after Alyssa, the girl who cut my hair, noticed a place on the back of my head with a good bit of gray that I'd missed, I had to seek help. Hair coloring help not mental help. I feel the need to clarify that a little.

Tonight, I realized how very much my precious husband must love me. He willingly put on the vinyl gloves and did the deed. Once he understood that the color should be applied to the hair and NOT the scalp he did a wonderful job. No doubt in my mind, that act was him putting his love in action and I appreciate it. I think he appreciates that it saved him close to a $100.