I began coloring my hair when I was 50, and at 73 I have no idea what color — or lack thereof — might be truly mine. I get my short, straight hair colored and cut every five weeks, and wear it spiky with the help of something called “hair clay” — functions like gel, but a different consistency.
I was slightly out of sync between hair appointments and my trip to Panama. I would have had to go at 3 1/2 weeks to get an appointment in before I left, which seemed too soon. But my appointment next Wednesday, is 7 weeks out. That, alas, is way too long. Not only is my short hair too overgrown to respond well to the hair clay and hold its spiky style — of course being in and out of the pool and ocean multiple times a day doesn’t help either — but I now have a significant swathe of white roots. White!!! My hair, in its natural color, is white.
I return home Saturday late, weather in Seattle allowing, and I plan to wear a bag over my head between then and my Wednesday appointment. The chances that, having gazed upon the evidence of my now white hair, I will go au natural are zero, zero, and zero.
No pic of the evidence. Not a chance. 🙂