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I am a hypocrite.
If you choose to walk away from this blog and never read another thing here, I understand. No one wants to follow a hypocrite.
Even a sincere, idealistic, middle-aged poser such as myself.
You see, for YEARS I’ve said to anyone who’d listen, that when the time came, when the moment arrived, when faced with THE DECISION, I’d go forward.
Into the unknown with head held high.
I would not weasel out of the truth by using chemical substances to cover the obvious. I would allow myself to go gray.
But last week, while getting my hair highlighted and cut, my stylist asked me, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS ONE WORD OF WARNING, if I was ready to go gray now.
She told me that underneath the two-tone highlights for which I pay a fortune, my natural hair color is 50% gray. Meaning that if I wanted to, I could stop the highlights, save money and go gray.
But without one moment of thought, throwing aside all my highfalutin talk about aging gracefully, I shouted: NO. I WANT TO BE BLONDE.
Make me blonde, please.
And so it came to be that my hypocritical nature came to light. Loud & clear. And I walked away from the salon with silvery golden blonde hair.