I’m Gonna Wash that Gray right out of my Hair

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OK, I admit it: I color my hair. Ever since I hit that-number-that-dare-not-be-named, the gray hairs started coming in fast and furious.

I’m assuming it was age-related, and not a result of being a stressed-out mother of two kids, a dog, and assorted fish. But I was less concerned with why the gray hairs were there then how to get rid of them. At first I yanked them out, but soon there were too many and I was fairly certain that bald would be a worse look for me than gray.

A lot of my friends were already part of the hair-coloring club. They trekked off to their salons every six weeks or so and paid gobs of money to get a single process or double process or foils and lowlights and who knows what other chemically-toxic, natural-looking fake color in their hair. Since I just wanted to cover up my gray hairs, I thought it would be easy enough and more cost-effective to just do it myself.

Of course, I once also thought I could save money by cutting my hair myself. I ended up looking like a tumbleweed that had electroshock treatment.

Not having learned from this mistake, the first time I decided to color my hair, I bought one of these permanent hair colors off the drug store shelf. Just picking the color was actually pretty overwhelming: There were dozens of brands and hues to choose from. I stood for ten minutes examining the dizzying array of browns such as Light Golden Brown and Medium Ash Brown and Natural Medium Rich Dark Brown (which was clearly the choice for idiot brunettes like me who can’t make up their minds). I finally settled on a brown that looked like my own hair color… sans the gray. The box said Medium Brown. The picture on the box looked like medium brown. But after I applied the hair dye, the color on my head was clearly, no bones about it, black. Really, really black. Because it was permanent and because it was so dark, I couldn’t lighten it. So for a month I had unnaturally black hair and my kids called me Severus Snape.

This time around, I decided to be smart and get one of those hair colors that washes out in 28 shampoos.

For temporary hair color, they have fun names like Nutmeg, and Chocolate Shake and Cocoloco. The problem with this was I still couldn’t figure out which one matched my hair color, and all the names made me hungry, to boot. I ran out and picked up a donut and coffee and then came back and settled on another medium brown tint with reddish brown undertones. Then I came home, colored my hair and looked in the mirror.

The gray was gone.

So was the brown.

My hair was pink.

It was actually more of a fuschia tone, if you want to be exact. Apparently the reddish brown undertones were more vibrant in reality than one would be led to believe from the description on the box. Apparently they were not undertones at all. Apparently they were overt tones and now my hair was pink.

Clearly, I was not that excited about this new look. First of all, pink hair is not a good look for a suburban stay at home mom who is not in a punk rock band. Second, I knew the pink would clash with all my red clothes. And third, as my daughter pointed out, while I no longer looked like Severus Snape, I did resemble a toy Troll, which is really not much of an improvement.

I quickly made an executive decision, jumped back in the shower, and washed my hair a dozen times.

My hair was now squeaky clean… and pink.

Finally I went back to the drug store, pondered my options, and finally settled on a foolproof remedy:

A baseball cap.

©2015, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

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A Tangle with the Tooth Fairy

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copyright Flickr – Michael Bently

“Excuse me Ma’am, we got a call about a breaking and entering.”

“It’s okay Officer, I’m actually allowed in the house.”

“And you are…?”

“The Tooth Fairy.”

“Did the homeowners let you in, Ma’am.”

“Not exactly.”

“How exactly did you enter the home?”

“Through the window.”

“You climbed in?

“No, I flew.”

“I see. You realize it’s a crime to enter someone else’s home without their knowledge?”

“Well, they knew I was coming, they just didn’t know when.”

“And what was the purpose of your visit?”

“I was picking up a tooth and dropping off some money.”

“Sounds fishy to me.”

 “No. It’s totally legit.”

“And you say they knew about it?”

 “Yes.”

“Well, we also got a report of an Unauthorized Tooth Retrieval.”

(Sigh). “It was authorized, Officer. The problem is the owner of the tooth doesn’t believe in the tooth fairy.

“So why did you come.”

“His parents are supposed to do it but they forget to wake up and then he blames me in the morning. It’s bad for my reputation.”

“Do you have the tooth on you now.”

 “Um, I’m not sure I should answer that question.”

“Ma’am I have probable cause to search your bag. I suspect you are in possession of oral contraband.”

 “Hey Officer, do you floss?”

“I think you’re trying to change the subject.”

“You know, people don’t pay enough attention to their oral hygiene. It’s a real problem!”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I have to charge you with Breaking and Entering, Unauthorized Tooth Retrieval, Failure to Operate a Business without a License, and Unlawful Use of Fairy Dust.”

 “But Officer, I still have a lot of teeth to collect tonight. The kids will be very disappointed if I don’t come.”

“Yeah, that’s what the Easter Bunny and that Santa dude, said, too. Tell it to the judge.”

©2015, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

bookbutton-04“Lost in Suburbia: A Momoir. How I Got Pregnant. Lost Myself, and Got My Cool Back in the New Jersey Suburbs” makes a great gift!! To get a copy for you or a cool mom you love, CLICK HERE

To become a fan of Lost in Suburbia on Facebook, Visit me here
To follow me on Twitter, visit me here

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