To Dye or Not to Dye

I probably started dying my hair in my early 20s, when it started to get gray. Yuk, I thought. On various occasions I've been blond, brown, dark brown, auburn and even red. I've had low lights and high lights. My hair has been long, mostly during my 20s and short by varying degrees the rest of my life so far ;)

I was motivated by different circumstances and people to color my hair. The first time I 'highlighted' my hair, they called it streaking in those days, it was a little longer than chin length and the stylist used a bathing cap and a crochet hook. I wasn't sure I'd ever go through with this again it was so painful and my hair was really, really blond and also really, really dry. Years went by and I experimented with shampoo in the shower color treatments with no peroxide. Later I moved to other non-peroxide treatments then to permanent hair colors and that led me to my red experience. I was so horrified by the color of my hair I ran out to the drug store before my hair had dried and got another box of a darker color to cover the red. Gradually I realized that I really didn't have the talent for coloring my own hair so I stopped. However, about this same time I found myself single and in my mid 30s so gray hair wasn't a good option. I started asking women with decent looking hair who they went to. The next phase was almost as interesting as the first. I went to a fellow in my neighborhood (at the time I lived on E. 44th St. between 1st and 2nd Avenues in NYC). He did fabulous hair cuts but he turned my hair red also. He was very distressed by his error but wouldn't re-do it for several days. I guess he was afraid of it all falling out! (So was I!) I guess it wasn't THAT red because no one at work commented.

I graduated from him to a woman colorist in a high end salon who was into astrology. I loved going to see her because it was a cross between therapy and transformation and she did a great job on my hair. Then one day she was gone! I didn't see this coming. It was really terrible. Another woman I 'knew' suggested a place in Trump Tower that she went to. This was a one-stop house of beauty. They had a coat check room, had you change into a very nice smock, brought you a beverage and spent as much time on you as money could legally buy. I liked it and I can't tell you why I stopped going but I imagine it was probably the cost.

When I moved to the west side, I found a small salon with peppy, perky staff - no coat check woman from South America and no beverages. I followed the colorist from that location to their next location a little further away but still on the west side. One day I showed up and she refused to color my hair!!! She refused! So, I left. Now I don't know what to do. So, while trying to decide, I did nothing for several years until I was "outplaced" from my job and needed to re-enter the job market as a younger-looking version of myself. I found yet another stylist who did low-lights on me. After I was hired on I think it was day one or two, I attended a meeting. I was the youngest person there (and I was about 45, I believe). Everyone had gray hair, including the women in the room! I stopped coloring it yet again.

When I moved to Florida my second or third stylist said I should color my hair. She convinced me that I knew what I looked like gray and I could always return to it. I took the bait and went through an array of colors until last May when I said - stop this! My hair is healthy and white and wash and wear styled. So, for today, I am not coloring my hair.