My hair and why I did it. March 11 2015

 It was a balmy summer morning. Honeysuckle perfumed the air. Time to get up for an early morning swim practice. Only...the pool where the gang was going to swim was known for iffy chemicals. Thinking, "What color will my hair be after this swim?" I prepared to sleep an extra hour.

I had been coloring my hair since the age of 25, when I started to go gray. It started out innocently enough: henna rinses that would turn the gray hair a lovely auburn color.

By age 31 the henna could not cut it, and so I began having chemical hair color applied. That lasted 31 years, every 4 weeks like clock work. Occasionally I would attempt the process myself. Then I would run to the stylist and beg to have my attempt covered up. 372 color applications later, I was ready for a change.

That summer morning was a turning point for me. Why should my hair color-or lack thereof-make my mind up about swimming? Especially swimming out doors, which is my favorite.

I got up and swam with a fierce determination to liberate myself.

At the next hair appointment my stylist and I set up a plan, and the process of growing my hair out began. And guess what? The chlorine in the pool assisted! As the chemical color faded, my true color phased in. The entire thing took just 3 months.

And you know what was under all that color? Platinum! (At my house no one says gray or white). Platinum around my face that is. Darker in the back, and lots of other colors to boot. Monochromatic simply will not do.

I thought I knew why I changed my hair color: swimming, right?

Not exactly.

My hair color says I have the courage to be my age. It says I have authority. That I am dignified, not flirty. I am a woman, not a girl. It says I know what I am doing, why I am doing it, and don't even try to give me any nonsense.

It says I am comfortable with my age, place in life, and ready to move full force into the next fabulous phase of life. Am I ever!