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Bill and I are heading to Hawaii next week for our anniversary. Again my hair is front and center; leave the grey roots, (Bill doesn't want me to use dye on my hair for my health’s sake,) no I can’t go on my anniversary vacation with a half inch of grey roots; color, no don’t color. This is so hard.

I had a woman stop at my school who told me that her sister is a hair stylist and that you can put a cap on your head to highlight and the color never touches your scalp. Wow! There it is, the answer. No grey and no nasty chemicals on my head. I’m on a mission now. I call my hairdresser and because I’m not a Cosmo girl and am oblivious to all the many ways of hair maintenance she fills me in. When you take off this cap you have to wash this stuff out. In other words, yes, it touches your scalp. I’m leaving in 2 days and I stop at Longs. I’m so weak. I buy a highlighter kit and my sixteen year old daughter Kathryn gets to work carefully applying so as to have the least amount of chemicals touch my head. I find out first hand 25 minutes later that it does indeed get all over your head while shampooing. Off to Hawaii I go feeling beautiful and sexy and very guilty and disappointed with myself. I’m so weak and so vain.

Now that vacation is over I recommit to no more color. My employee and friend Amber (29 with brown hair) knows the whole story and patiently listens whilst I teeter totter on the grey thing. I’m even getting sick of hearing myself talk about this. She knows I’m writing an article about this and reminds me that after its public knowledge I’m committed. On that note, it’s taken 6 weeks to write 4 paragraphs.

O.K. 8 weeks have gone by and I have approximately ¾ of an inch of grey. Bill mentioned to me just yesterday that I have a slight green tinge to my hair probably from swimming. I didn’t realize that sage and rosemary were so powerful and long-lasting. You can start to see the grey and it really shows when I brush my hair back. I was in Longs today. I was actually near the hair department. I’m too embarrassed to call my hairdresser, I’m sure she thinks I’m an indecisive dork, and/or perhaps trying to destroy her business. Part of me wants someone to invent something, anything, to safely cover my grey hair; the other part of me says get over yourself.

This is my latest; the closer I get to D-Day, the more fit I want to be. It’s sort of; if I can’t have brown/blonde hair I can at least have the body of my youth (well, sort-of.) It has been a week since I typed that last sentence and I should delete it because I just traded one youth-obsessive notion for another. I’ll leave it because I actually did think that and I have grown so much since last week.

Soon……The saga continues... Pictures will be in Part 3.

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