As a woman of a certain age, one must decide… Age gracefully or fight Mother Nature with every tool in the cosmetic arsenal.
Well, if you read yesterday’s post, you’d know that grace is not my strong suit. Hey, I’m working’ on it, y’all.
I am not ultra-high maintenance by any measure. I keep my makeup simple. My clothing style is a hybrid of modern and thrift store. Funky, fun & frugal! Now, I do get my nails done regularly, but that is a story for another day. And then there is my hair…
My hair is long. I like it straight, though the Good Lord saw fit to give me crazy, wavy hair with a mind of its own. And for the past ten years, slowly but surely, the natural silver highlights have waged a war on my chestnut brown hair. And though modern hair color helps me win the occasional battle, the grays are winning the war.
Now this doesn’t really bother me. I know that the brown hair is not coming back. What I do mind is how sneaky those little gray suckers can be. They creep up with no warning. Worse, you find they have launched a full-scale attack when you thought you were looking good.
This morning I woke up, got ready for church and headed out with the family. Now, I know vanity should not be my priority at church, but it reared its ugly head in the ladies room. As I was washing my hands and thinking about touching up my lip gloss, I noticed a light glowing around the top of my head.
No, not heavenly lights. I have no halo, trust me. The fluorescent lights cast a direct glow on a head full of natural silver highlights.
I knew it was “about that time.” I knew a visit to the salon was in my near future. But, as I left my house this morning, I though I looked pretty good. (I do have pretty forgiving lighting in my powder room.)
However, in the harsh – and all too honest – lighting in the ladies room at church, the truth rang as clear as church bells on a sunny Sunday morning.
Well, when the going gets gray, the gray go straight to the salon!