I’ve been writing a few more pensive and ponderous blogs of late. Y’know, spouting off about my potted philosophies on life. But I felt we were all in need of a more frivolous post this week – or at least, I certainly was. And what could be more frivolous than ‘hair’? Nothing, that’s what.
Now, I’m not especially good at change. But sometimes, change is necessary. So after a lifetime of being a brunette, I decided it was time to go blonde. I got a few nice comments with regards to the blonde wigs I was sporting in a recent post about taking up amateur dramatics. But that’s not why I did this. The reason behind it is a terrible truth; yes, grey hair. When you dye your hair fairly dark – which I did – those pesky greys come through in a very visible way, at a seemingly very rapid rate. And I’d been assured that when you’re blonde, that relentless, perpetual grey working its evil way out of your head would be visibly more forgiving between dyes. I had always been intending to wait until I was fifty before I did this, but I decided – that date being five years away – life was too short
So, now I’m blonde – kind of. It’s a work in progress as my hair was very dark. It’s currently highlighted with a view to getting blonder as the months go on. It’s less of a shock to a lifelong brunette like me to do this gradually. But it has still been a shock to the system. When I initially got home from the hairdressers, my husband’s first words were (I kid you not), ‘ugh’, and then, ‘it’s very liney’, and followed up by my personal favourite, ‘it’s going to take a long time for me to get used to this’. Which, of course was exactly the reaction I was hoping for. In my opinion, the colour’s alright – I haven’t seen one photo of me as a recent blonde that I particularly like, but perhaps I will as I get used to the change and as I get blonder. That’s why I’ve not posted many photos on any social media – or on this blog. And I won’t be changing my author head-shots anytime soon either – not until I’m sure blonde is truly the way to go.
What has surprised me most, is that even though it’s a fairly drastic change, not everyone has noticed.
I’ve always said people are very unobservant. I haven’t had a single haircut that people have remarked on in about six years. When you have curly hair, that tends to be the case. Some people at work have noticed the new colour, sure, but just as many have said a) nothing b) ‘there’s something different about you…’ or c) ‘have you straightened your hair?’. I’ve always maintained I could walk around with an axe buried in my skull and people would say (at best), ‘you’re looking a bit peaky, Adele.‘ I class myself as very observant – especially regarding hair. But perhaps not so much in other areas. Because I didn’t spot that a work colleague had had lip-filler for about four days, and we always sit and eat lunch together. But that’s different, she could have had an allergic reaction to a bee sting and I was just trying to be polite (I’m joking, it looked pretty good, and not too obvious, which was why I didn’t notice initially).
What I have noticed about being blonde is how dry my hair has become. It feels a little like ‘doll hair’. After I have shampooed and conditioned it (I’m talking a lot of conditioner) and diffuse-dried it, I am actually having to put Moroccan argan oil in it just for some much-needed moisture. My daughter, who is a teenager constantly battling oily hair – because…well, she’s a teenager – is absolutely appalled that I am desperately adding oil to my hair whilst she is desperately trying to wash it out. Luckily, my hair is cut very short, so hopefully I should be able to keep on top of this dryness issue.
They do say as you get older, your skin tone changes, and dark hair invariably looks terribly unnatural. So, I really do feel this is the best course of action for me. I remember my mother used to dye her hair very dark well into her sixties – maybe even seventies, and it wasn’t a good look. I mean, we’re talking ‘Elvis’, and not in a good way. So, I’ve decided to do something about this whilst in mid-forties. The worst thing about going blonde is that I can no longer DIY. I mean, I could, but I wouldn’t – the risk of hair-breakage is too high. So I must now spend a good few hours (and pounds) at the hairdressers, possibly every two months for the rest of my life. I only used to dye my own hair because I needed to dye it so often. But as I said to my husband (who, being the miser that he is, brought up the mounting cost), I don’t have many vices. I don’t smoke, I hardly ever drink, I don’t excessively buy clothes or shoes or handbags. So my hair is going to be my only vice. I’ve always spent a fair amount on hair-care; regular cuts, that is. And I never buy shitty supermarket/chemist shampoo and conditioner either – only salon stuff. We’re talking approx ££20.00 a bottle. That’s not because I’m a snob, my hair looks like crap when I buy cheap shampoo and conditioner. There’s a well-known brand out there (which I can’t name because of possible litigation reasons, but it begins with ‘p’ and and in ‘antene’), that when I once mistakenly used it, made my hair look like wire-wool. It was so bad I literally thought at one point that I might have to cut it all off.
You may be thinking, ‘this is a very lightweight post, isn’t it? All about going blonde? Is Adele on something this week?’. But you see, this could be the beginning of something pretty big. This could be character-building or life-changing stuff. No, seriously, I’ve always believed that hair maketh the man – or woman. If and when I am fully blonde, I might change in personality entirely. I might be a bit more bubbly and outgoing (I mean, it’s unlikely, but I might). I might be the personification of confidence – which would be great, because I’m certainly not now. And if it’s true that blondes really do have more fun, well, maybe it’s time I had some.