I was standing in line today behind two adorably pregnant women ( you all know the type- basketball under the shirt, heels, full face of makeup, hair freshly blown out. In a nutshell, the opposite of me at any point in either of my pregnancies) who were completely and utterly scandalized by their friend’s decision to continue to dye her hair during her pregnancy. You would think that overhearing something like this wouldn’t cause my blood to boil to the point where my veins were visible on my forehead, but you would be mistaken. I was so irrationally livid hearing these two tear apart their friend apart over hair dye that I had to ask myself why I even gave a shit. The answer is I colored during throughout my pregnancies because..sob…I am prematurely gray and I HATE it. Coloring my hair is not a choice so much, as a mandate from the heavens. (Side note: I would love to hear what these two delights have to say about breastfeeding/formula, cosleeping, pacifiers, swaddling and all the other mommy war topics. Sanctimonious bitches). I have to dye this shit every four weeks to avoid morphing into a salt and pepper disaster.
My grays are sneaky as all hell too. One day I will be able to spot one or two. “Not terrible” I think to myself. They lull me into a false sense of vanity and then I wake up the next day looking like George Clooney’s hair double. But, I digress.
Oh I tried the natural herbatint nonsense when I was pregnant with O. It resulted in dark brown blotches on my forehead and neck and slightly fewer gray hairs. To make a long story short, I need the full throttle hair dye replete with ammonia, peroxide and all sort of other chemicals. I do a ton of selfless things as a mother, but walking around like a homeless Cruella Deville is where I draw my line in the sand. O and S, I am terribly sorry if mommy’s vanity cost you any I.Q. points. Feel free to discuss this with your future therapists.