yeah, that seems about right.

As I stare down the last six weeks of my 34th year, it appears that this particular year has made me old. That seems about right. I feel old and my hair has decided to go along with this feeling by turning grey. Perfect. I find myself scouring the crown of my head in the rear view mirror at stop lights. Could that one maybe, possibly be blond? Do they just sprout fully-formed overnight, during the course of a staff meeting at work or as I'm looking at our bank statement or talking to my mom on the phone?

I should admit, I've always liked my hair and taken some secret pride in the ease of our relationship. It's just your basic brown, straight hair, but its always been very cooperative. It lets me do my thing, and in turn, I treat it well. I give it ridiculously overpriced shampoo and hair products, and with the exception of that regrettable perm right before leaving for college, we've always managed just fine. But now its turned on me. Gone are the days of impulsively getting color or high/lowlights for fun, on a whim, in a sleek and stylish salon. I'm now going to be one of those crazy moms who locks herself in the bathroom every sixth Saturday to home dye her hair.

Is this truly what its come to? And more importantly, why does it make me want to cry? I don't consider myself vain, but I now have one more mandatory beauty ritual to add to an ever growing list. Along with waxing, plucking, moisturizing, hydrating, etc. I need to add dying my hair when on most days I'm thrilled to shower before I leave the house in the morning.