There's yogurt and jelly in here, and you can't eat either.
My hair is not naturally black. I am, however, naturally lazy so if you are taller than me, this is not new knowledge. I found my first gray hair at 16, but she was easily ignored since I’d been bleaching/dyeing/destroying my mousy locks since 14 anyway. Mousylocks was a very boring girl to me. Of course, now I’m old and married and I can part my hair anywhere all over my head and see grays. And as a hysteric in denial, I’m surely courting cancer with all the chemical-y black hair dye, right? So what’s a freak to do? I’ll tell you. DO THIS DON’T: Embrace the gray roots, girlfriends.
In the early 90’s, I was very often a bleach blonde with 2-inch dark roots in plastic barrettes. Twenty years later, let’s flip the script, bitches! Can’t I walk around with silver-y roots like it’s a thing? Yes, the pigment has changed in my natural/unnatural hairstyle, but a lot has changed. Contact Natalie for technological examples of these changes, like I said, I’m lazy. I did have a Cat's-in-the-Cradle moment the other day realizing I’d witnessed the birth and death of a particular Blockbuster video store. But anyway. I planned to showcase my gray pride at a wedding of very dear and lovely friends last weekend. I even considered putting a silver rinse on my roots to really make them pop & then wearing a runway pompadour ponytail to truly own the situation. In reality, I fixed it as normal, sort of fluffed up a couple of more obvious salt-y cowlicks, and just tried to walk around like it was as intentional as it was. I personally liked it, and no one batted an eye, but to be fair, I have very large breasts. I could walk around with two noses on my face and the rare character would notice. A much crazier thing happened though. I have many regular hack lines; one go-to is that I have the newlywed equivalent of first-term Presidential graying. The process IS truthfully speeding up. Well, an hour into the reception of this beautiful-in-all-possible-areas Michigan inn wedding, the husband gave me one of those scares that makes you wake up with pure white terrified hair. We snuck off to the emergency room to attend to his medical issue and he was kept overnight for this issue as well as another. Without giving away too much private medical info, he DID THE DON'T of not following his doctor's directions since last year. We left Michiana with a no-salt order and a healthy dose of fear. Remember when I said I didn't know whether it was easier to marry young or old? Marry young. Marry as a teenager and ease into this stuff. Or stay single. Oh, and I’m giving Mike six months to get healthy, then he SO owes me a baby for this.
So back to my hair, I'm taking the no salt thing as a sign from the Universe and I'm going to do what I do best in times of stress: dye that sh!t. Change my outsides to make my insides feel better. Go back to all pepper. Or CINNAMON. And to Elizabeth and Jeremy, I love you both and wish you the happiest life together. Aren't you glad I didn't ruin your wedding with a bizarre beauty experiment or publicly announced medical emergency??