My daughter continues to impress me with her high opinion of my physical appearance.
On a whim and with no small amount of encouragement from her, I bought some “light auburn” hair dye this weekend. I’ve never dyed my hair before. Ever. I’ve contemplated it but was always content with the color God gave me. I had been remarking on the increasing number of gray hairs on my head but that’s not why I bought it. I think I wanted to do something spontaneous (a tame midlife crisis?!) and I think I wanted to do something for my husband (he really likes red heads). Anyway, I bought it. But I wasn’t in a hurry to use it.
Well… Jane bought a shocking flaming metallic red to try herself. Actually, we bought it and she doesn’t get it until this Friday, assuming she does an adequate number of chores in between. This means that she was restless come Sunday afternoon and just dying to dye someone’s hair. (Yes, that word choice was deliberate.)
And so it came to be that I let my 13 year old daughter dye my hair. At first, it didn’t look all that red. Now I think it’s maybe too much (although the kids and husband insist it’s not). When I first came out of the bathroom with it freshly brushed and dried, Jane gushed. She insisted it was beautiful. That I was beautiful. I remarked that you couldn’t really see the red. She said, “Maybe so but at least there isn’t any more gray.”
When we went to get my husband’s opinion, he too remarked at the inability to see the red very well (my natural hair color is a very dark brown). Jane insisted that I looked great.
“She’s just saying that because it covered all the gray,” I said.
“That’s not true!” she protested, indignantly. “You can actually still see some gray right… here,” she continued, picking at my hair.
I glared at her.
“Oh, wait,” she said. “Um, that didn’t come out right. I mean…”
Yes, dear. You slammed me again. Thanks. *smirk*