This picture was taken two days ago- 6 weeks after my hair appointment! If it wasn’t my natural hair color, I’d have roots!
Oh, but I do. Look closely. Closer. My roots are gray. That’s right, GRAY. At least some of them are.
Holy crap. Oh my god. WTF?
I’m 30. I am not supposed to have gray hair. How long has the gray been there? Just recently? Since I moved to Michigan? Since I turned 25? AUGH! It’s killing me. KILLING ME. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I’ve always held on to the idea that I can always grown my natural hair color out and start fresh… You know, if my hair gets too damaged, or if I’m ever sick of going to the salon. That will never happen now. EVER.
Look, in the scheme of things I know this isn’t the end of the world. It’s just the first sign that I’m getting older and I guess that’s a little harder to process than I thought. Yikes.
Now that I’ve gotten that out, I’m ignoring this. I went to the salon yesterday and my hair is the beautiful deep red color. Not a single strand of gray in sight.
Let’s forget I said anything, OK? OK.