Hair

The time: last week.

The place: a local salon (but not my usual one).

I made a last-minute appointment, walked in, plopped down into the chair and asked the stylist to go to town. It was the most hair I’ve had cut in five years.

I’d actually been ruminating on doing something like this for a while, and I think that Tabs passing pushed me over the edge. (The whole “saying goodbye and moving into a different stage of life” thing.)

Also, I’d gotten to the point where I reached “mean piano teacher status,” and when you hit that level, it’s time to choppity-chop that hair.

I’ve basically been ignoring my hair for six or seven months. Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time I got a trim. I really couldn’t wear it down anymore because of how unruly it had become, and whenever I did try to “style it,” I’d just slick down the front and pull the rest into a tight ponytail or bun.

In my head, I was going for Vogue chic, but I think it made me look more severe and serious than I think I am…or at least want to be.

I’ll post a pic soon… I want to show you the hair, but I’m not quite there yet in terms of seeing myself in pics. For some reason, it’s my eyes. I still see a sad person staring back at me when I look at pics of myself.

Hard to explain.

I’ll try soon.

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

Next week, I’ll officially be six months into “The Journey to Grow Out My Grays,” and let me tell you…it’s been hard! It’s been even tougher than growing out my brows, which is sort of counter-intuitive, right? Because I’m not actually doing anything… The hair is doing all the work. I’m just living my life, but dang if it hasn’t been a test of will and a test of my mental state.

Ah, man!

The Journey to Grow Out My Grays
• Growing Out My Grays: Chapter 1
• Growing Out My Grays: Chapter 2
• Frivolous Friday Chit Chat: Growing Out Gray Hair, J. Lo Makin’ Me Want to Go to Pilates Every Day, and Blending Boot Camp
• Is There a Graceful Way to Go Gray?

Yet again, I came *this close* to dying my hair, because, to be honest, I’m still not loving it… I don’t want to say that I “hate” it, because there are definitely some aspects that I like, like the freedom from not feeling like I have to go get my roots done every few weeks, and not always feeling like my hair is in a transitional state. I like feeling that my hair just is what it is, you know? This is the color, this is what it looks like now, and I don’t have to maintain it. I don’t have to spend the money, time or effort making it into something it isn’t.

That’s been liberating…

But there are other things I still… I really, really don’t want to say “hate,” because it’s such a strong word, and this is my body. I don’t want to hate anything about my body. Plus, hair is just the frosting, right? It’s just the outside stuff. I tell Connor this all the time: “It’s what’s in your heart that matters. What’s inside determines your worth.”

I know these things are true.

But then I see myself in the mirror, and the person looking back at me doesn’t look like the person I grew up with. I’ve cried more than a few times over the past few weeks. It’s hard for me to say that, but it’s true. Because I really am not loving how I look with salt and pepper hair.

Connor and I took this selfie at an Easter egg hunt last weekend, and I’m almost full-on gray now.

At this point, I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to keep doing this experiment. At the start, I told myself that I was gonna go at least six months… I may try for eight, or I may walk into a rand-o salon this afternoon and walk out with pink hair! It could go either way.

What have I learned so far? Well, some of the best advice I’ve gotten was from a friend who grew out her grays last year, and she said, “I oil the crap outta my hair.”

You know what? That has been really helpful, especially since my hair has gotten progressively coarser as I’ve gone more gray.

The more oil I work into it (I do it when my hair is damp, right after I get out of the shower), the better off I am. My hair feels less crunchy, the grays are less unruly, and they’re generally better behaved.

Also, and I don’t know if this is considered kosher, but it’s been helping me out, sooo…when I do my hair, and I’m doing my best to tame the flyaways, if there are any rogue hairs that simply refuse to bend to my will, I freakin’ pluck them out, man!
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I don’t simply have one scrunchie on my desk right now. I have two! — and yet despite this, I totally get why they have a bad rap, because if you grew up in the ’80s, there’s a good chance you rocked a scrunchie, and you probably rocked it hard.

Then the ’90s came along, though, and everyone became too cool for scrunchies. They turned into a big joke in the hair world, like “Ewww! She’s wearing a scrunchie.”

But you know what? I’ve never forsaken the scrunchie. The scrunchie and I have been ride or die since day one, and the evidence is currently on my desk, on my wrist, and in my hair.

Look, if scrunchies are good enough for Jason Momoa, they’re good enough for the general population. Props to him for matching his scrunchie with his outfit like I did in sixth grade circa 1987, but please, Jason Momoa, if you’re reading this, I DID IT FIRST. 😂 *hair flip*

I’ve always loved scrunchies because they don’t leave that funny dent in your hair after you’ve had them in for a while, unlike your standard issue elastics. They don’t pull your hair out or give you headaches, either!

YOU CAN ALSO GET THEM TO MATCH YOUR OUTFIT. Mostly, I just think they’re really cute. I love that they’re floofy and look like ruffles. Um, sure, they aren’t terribly effective if you’re running or jumping. There’s no chance in hades that a scrunchie will stay in my hair if I’m working out or doing anything vigorously, but other than that, I’m 100% TEAM PRO SCRUNCHIE, always and forever. 😊

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

It has been four months since the last time I dyed my hair, and I believe that I’ve reached the point when almost everyone who grows out their grays says that they want to attack something. Or someone. In other words, the point when it gets really hard.

Last week I came *this* close to booking a last-minute color appointment. Multiple times.

The biggest challenge has been figuring out what to do about my hairline, because I have a lot of gray there, and the hairs are ever-so-slightly coarser, and therefore more unruly, than the darker hairs.

Back when I was dying my hair and would find an errant gray shooting for the stars and striking out on its own, I’d just pluck it…but now I’m like, “What’s the point? It’s just gonna grow back anyway.”

Now, though, those errant hairs are also FOUR INCHES LONG. Honestly, it’s just so comical. I spend half the time laughing at myself and the other half wrangling the grays into place (a.k.a. getting my hair to look like I’m not being electrocuted). I wonder if I’m ever gonna feel good about my hair again…

Oh, and last night I barely averted hair disaster after watching a couple YouTube tutorials on how to cut your own bangs. I was standing in my bathroom with the scissors against my bangs, all set to CHOP-CHOP-CHOP. It was all happening in slow motion, too. Thankfully, I had just enough sense left to stop before it was too late. Slowly, I set down the scissors and backed away from the mirror.

MAH HAIR. IT’S DRIVING ME CRAZY.

On the bright side, I really like not having to dye my hair anymore. That part is liberating, but the growing out part is mostly just a pain in the @ass.

Here’s something weird: Depending on which way I part the front of my hair, I either see a ton of gray or very little. Like, if I pull my hair back into a ponytail, I can really see the salt and pepper coming through. Same if I do a deep side part. But if I part my hair down the middle, or just slightly off center, I barely see any.
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