June 2019 was when I last had my hair dyed. Before that I had visited the hairdresser every 8 weeks or so to have my roots topped up – sitting in the chair looking like one of those troll toys any child of the 60’s will remember. I’d been wondering for a while when, or more importantly how, I was going to stop the dyeing cycle. Creeping grey roots or a pixie cut didn’t seem like much of an option – and I couldn’t afford the 8 hours at the salon going grey in a day! As it happened fate played it’s own game in deciding how things would be.
Firstly I fell over running – clearly unrelated as I didn’t trip on a grey root – I actually tripped on one of those nobbles in the pavement which are there for the partially sighted to know a road is coming! Anyway my bumped head didn’t feel like putting itself through the troll look so I cancelled my appointment and we went off on a break away in our campervan where doing my hair is not a priority! Sitting in the van one evening G looks at me and says – I think you’d suit grey hair. That got me thinking that maybe this was my moment to ditch the dye.
After the holiday I saw my hairdresser and told her – I was expecting her to try and persuade me to keep dyeing (she does of course have a vested interest in my roots!) but she was amazingly supportive.
The first few months were the worst – that in between stage when you’ve got 3 inch roots and it just looks unkempt. I work from home and so creeping roots were not a big problem although I must admit to resorting to using a powder touch up brush when I was going into the office or going anywhere special. At the start of 2020 I still had serious roots and I’d have started a small avalanche if I had tried to powder them so I took to telling everyone I saw (whether they were interested or not) that I was going back to my natural colour. It’s a bit like sitting on your own at the cinema – I always feel the need to explain things that probably are of no interest to others!
All my friends colour their hair – it really is strange how in the last 20 years more women do than don’t. We are all slaves to what I now think is a myth that we will look better not grey. Men can be grey – they are suave silver foxes – women – think granny with a bun. Most people, to my face anyway, are supportive – some even think I am brave which is a bit alarming as it is only a hair colour after all.
The second quirk of fate – Lockdown #1 started – suddenly no-one could get their hair dyed – I was ahead of the game! My hair by now was ombre – grey streaks at the front, steelier grey elsewhere with brown tips. You’d have paid a lot of money to get such an effect!
So now I’m at 21 months no dye. Only the merest tip of my hair (on one side – no idea why) is now dyed brown. I am so pleased I have done this now – it could have been years before I had the nerve to do it. Do I look older – yes people probably think I am older because reality is that we don’t really look at each other properly and we just clock the highlights (pun intended – my hairdresser thinks my hair looks like it has had grey highlights and has recreated the colour for another of her clients). But does that matter? Why are we so fixated on what we look like anyway? Answers on a postcard (when we can get away 🤣)
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