*This post has nothing to do with my children*
I have been blond for as many years as I know. The only time I wasn't blond was for either plays in college or a brief period of craziness after Shawn and I were married (I guess I thought I had my man so who needed to pay $150 for cute hair...turns out, I did). Anyway, I was born blond. I was blond through my teens. When I was 20 a costume designer was fitting me for a show. She took down my measurements (much smaller measurements than if I were to say give those same measurements today, ugh) and told her assistant to write down that my eyes and hair were brown. Um, nooooo! I told her I was blond. She argued with me and took me to a mirror. Brown. Boring brown hair. I made an apt with my salon that week and became a born-again-blond. And stayed that way!
I am cute blond. I am bubbly blond. I match the color of my children's hair blond. But over the years my means of becoming blond has changed. For 10 years I had it done, expensively, in a salon. First there was Rebel. Then William (not Will, William). Then Christy. Those were my hairdressers, my therapists and truthfully and eventually, my friends. But then I became a mom. 2 hours spent in a salon on a Saturday afternoon was no longer my luxury. Nor was the $150 bucks I spent. I started coloring my own hair. I have vivid, hilarious memories of T and I coloring each other's hair at her house off MLK. Eventually I stopped paying for the outrageous haircut prices as well. I started going to walk-in-cheap-joints. Always I walked out hating my hair. But hey, it cost me $7, who could complain???? Apparently I did. I always complained when I got home, and for weeks thereafter.
The pinnacle of my hair drama came last winter after moving to Colorado. It is VERY dry here. Going from wet-Seattle to dry-Denver put my skin and hair into shock. I colored my hair one day only to have it turn GREEN! Yup, GREEN! I had burned it because my hair was so dry and damaged. I had to cut if off. All off. What a nightmare. Yet I continued with the cheap color and cheap cuts.
I did this for 3 years. Finally, my darling husband said "Enough! Go get a real haircut and color already!" So I made an apt. I walked into a real salon. One that offers you wine or tea with your cut. One where everyone is dressed sleekly in black and have great hair. One that costs as much as my co-pay for my Cesarean delivery (OK, not quite that much!). I told the lovely woman my "hair-story." Told her I wanted something easy, quick, and with low-maintenance. I just don't have the time for a big-maintenance-do. She cut it very cute, a graduated bob. Very chic. But most drastically it meant no more color. Or rather, very little color. So she took me back to my roots - literally. It's sort of a really light brown, or maybe dark blond if you stretch, with a few light highlights. But most certainly not blond. I'm no longer a blond. This sounds silly, I know, but it's sort of a mourning for me to give that up. Being blond was who I was. But alas, I guess I'm now more of a mom than a blond.
I'll get used to it. In time.