I was at Target when the doors opened this morning at eight o'clock. Having missed Hair Night in December, my gray roots were (and have been for the past week) visible from space and I was desperate for a bottle of L'Oreal.
** Let the record show that I would rather make an appointment with the wonderful woman who does hair for us girls, but I'm smack-dab in the middle of the post-Christmas cash crunch. And I had a coupon for Preference.
After paying the $100 Target cover charge (because, honestly, all I needed was the hair dye and a gallon of Skim, but they put the milk all the way in the back and by the time I got to the checkout lane I had a cart full of other necessary crap), I was bundling back up against the single-digit temps outside and thinking it would have been cheaper for me to make the damn hair appointment, when in front of me walked two sweet little old ladies who were leaving the snack-bar. And I froze for just a second.
Judging from the size and stoop and overall wrinkleage of the smaller one, I'd have to guess she was in her eighties. But what stopped me in my tracks wasn't her spry gait or her lively chatter. No, what brought me to a halt was the fact that her hair was the exact same shade of Dark Mahogany Brown that I'd just purchased.
Now, Friends, I'm not suggesting that there is a right time to let yourself go gray, nor do I think you even have to. Hair color is a personal decision and I make no judgments. I'm just hoping that, when the time is right, someone dear to me will gently steer me in the direction of the "lighter shades."
Trust me; I will thank them for it.
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