I am in shock. Just now, at the Mass Pike rest stop on the way home from Western Mass, I looked in the bathroom mirror and realized the hair growing (in random patches- don’t get too excited for me) on my head is BLONDE. My jaw dropped and Tara, a few sinks away, looked at me inquisitively and said, “You look perplexed – what’s up?”
“Is it me or the light in here or is my hair really growing in blonde?” I asked.
“I noticed that yesterday,” she confirmed, “You do have the genes for it.”
“But I don’t think I want to be blonde!” I whined (even though I can’t stand whining.)
“That, my dear, is the beauty of being a woman,” Tara declared. “You can dye it any color you want! Besides, maybe it’s the peach fuzz like when babies are born, and it will change …”
I was born with a full head of dark brown hair. And I love(d) being a brunette. I am hoping I will be again, but if I am not, I will not dye it. Just like when my hair was starting to go grey, I was letting it. So if I end up blonde, I guess I will just channel my inner Marilyn … maybe not all the time, but certainly when I want to have fun!