More and more women I know over 40 are letting their hair go gray naturally. They say they feel freer and more “authentic.” They’re setting an example for women everywhere that aging is nothing to be ashamed of, and we should kick the bottle and just let it go.
God help me, but I’m addicted to the bottle.
I've been a bottle blonde for about 10 years. I didn't start off being a blonde. I was born with a full head of bushy, dark-brown hair befitting my southern Italian heritage and pretty much grew up looking like Annette Funicello.
Then it happened. Around age 30, the first sprig of gray appeared. I was like, WTF!!—gray at 30? Pluck! Out came that sucker. But you know what happens once you start plucking—suddenly a sprig turns into two sprigs, and the next thing you know you’ve got enough silver on your head to decorate the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
I was having none of that. As soon as the grays started coming in faster than I could pluck, I headed to the drug store and picked up a box of permanent haircolor.
If you've never used out-of-a-box haircolor, you can't really appreciate the lengths women go to to maintain the illusion of youth. Between the mess, the staining everything in sight, the latex gloves and the godawful ammonia smell, it’s an experience somewhere between a root canal and childbirth. Given the alternative, though, I held my breath, donned the gloves and got used to it.
