I must have been about seven when my mom started coloring her hair. A lot.
For a period of about a year – all through my second grade – she let her beautician experiment with different tints, rinses, and hues.
I never knew what Momie I’d be coming home to. It was like having a big ole Barbie. I loved it.
There was light brown Mom, and brunette Mom (I suspect that was my Dad’s favorite), Lucille Ball Mom and “I can’t quite tell any difference, do YOU like it” Mom. Like most changes, they were all fine and kind of fun. Except the red. Red wasn’t her best shade. Many years later I would learn that’s genetic.
Of all my Moms that year, the one I liked the best was Jean Harlow Mom – Bombshell Mom. Her colorist got a little carried away, or did it on purpose, but it was a very bold move to be sure. I remember Mom coming home from the salon with a scarf over her head then hiding in the bathroom, scared to come out and show us the results.
When she did, I fell out. I loved the look. With her coloring the platinum blonde rocked – so did she. We all thought she looked awesome. The brightish white made her eyes pop, and the more we piled on the compliments the more she smiled and the prettier she looked. She was happy and gorgeous. I always wished she had stayed a blonde.
But alas, we know, dying your hair can’t make you happy.
Only a really great cut can do that!
Yes, I learned a lot from my mother's bold changes — her willingness to change, her fearlessness when trying something new, and her acceptance that's sometimes things do not always turn out the way you hoped they would. When that happens, try again.
There's a lot of wisdom in a bottle of peroxide…
Happy Mothers Day!