Further Adventures in Hairland

I've been dying my hair for years. Not because of Stubborn Grays, but because of boredom.

I have never been all that attached to what was atop my head (although I am awfully precious about what's contained inside it.) I have been, at various times in my life, Dorthy Hamill-ed, Farrah-ed, Rachel-ed, and Madonna Buzz Cut-ed. I have been flaming red, platinum blonde, goth black, and Hanta virus mouse brown. My tresses have even been colored a weirdly golden-greenish tint, which I think was the result of a bad batch of dye from that discount hair supply joint located next to Target. But what do you expect when you're dealing with sales people fresh off the boat from Croatia? Nothing against Croatians, mind you, but if they've only been in our fair city for, what, 3.5 seconds, one cannot expect them to sell the exactly right hair color, now can one? Besides it's just hair. It grows back. That's why God invented baseball caps, head bands, and multi-colored scrunchies.

But this past year, my cavalier attitude has suffered a shift in altitude. Very slowly, Stubborn Grays have crept in on their little pig feet to make themselves known among my locks. This, I'm not happy about. Because do you know just how hard it is to cover Stubborn Grays? Lo'real in a box won't do it. Neither will Nice 'n' Easy (my ass). No, people, you have to go to a professional colorist when this starts happening. Because they and only they hold the secret to keeping the Stubborn Grays at bay.

Luckily, I think I have hit upon a plan. Highlights. Big, chunky swathes of contrasting color among which the Stubborn Grays can blend in like wallflowers at their first junior high school dance. Sure, the cost of highlighting basically equals the gross national product of a small island nation, but people: I'll go buzz cut. I'll go platinum blonde. Hell, I'll even go neon green. But I will not go gray.