Jennifer Crusie | Argh Ink | Blog

Somebody said once that when a woman wants to change her life, she changes her hair. And God knows, that’s me. I even wrote my worst experiences into a novel. But now I’m Mature. I’m going to be 59. So I’m facing Change and embracing it.

So I was just cleaning out my bathroom vanity (holds a lot of stuff) and found these two hair color boxes. One was a lovely streaky brown that was very tasteful, and I thought, “I’m gonna do this RIGHT NOW.” Because embracing change means seizing the moment. Also, I was bored with cleaning.

So I got all the little bottles and envelopes and modules out–it’s like a chemistry class these days–and read the directions and right there it said, “Do not use on gray hair.” Well, it’s only the top layer of my hair that’s gray, everything under that is dark ash brown, but still, there’s that gray, sitting like the whipped cream on a chocolate something, so I picked up the second box.

This one’s a little dicier. It was marked down to three dollars in some plastic bin and it’s bright, light red. Actually, it’s called Apricot, which I don’t think is a good sign. Also it’s discontinued, which is also not encouraging, but that’s why it was three bucks. On the other hand, I used to do this all the time in college, go platinum, go pitch black, go bright screaming red. Never bothered me then. Of course then I had a firm jawline and an awesome bustline so I had more going for me, but still, I used to be a real free spirit in the hair dept. And now I’m almost 59 and getting jaded. And gray. Let’s not talk about the jawline. Speaking of which, Slate did a slide show on wrinkles that was actually interesting. But I digress.

The big fear was that I’d end up looking like Mrs. Roper on Three’s Company, but I googled her and her hair wasn’t that red, evidently. That leaves me with Shirley MacClaine the later years to worry about but I happen to think Shirley is a helluva broad, so that’s not exactly a drawback either. Anyway, I decided what the hell and put it on. It was fairly uneventful except when my hand slipped and I squirted some on the floor, narrowly missing Wolfie who’d come in to see what I was doing and if it was anything edible. Thank God I missed. I already have to put up with blonde Veronica. If I had a red-headed Wolfie . . . Actually, he’d probably turn out to be a canine David Caruso. Without the long . . . pauses.

And now, since I’m covering gray, it takes thirty minutes, and there’s not a lot you can do with gunk on your head except live blog your follicular apocolypse. I e-mailed Krissie and Lani for support, but Krissie is off somewhere having a life and Lani just says, “I want pictures.”

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Sorry, had to go rinse, the thirty minutes were up. It’s hard to tell at this point, but it Does Not Look Good. I have the avocado conditioner on now and it’s supposed to stay on for two minutes and then I rinse that out and see if I can find my blow dryer to see how bad this actually is. I think it’s going to be Crayola Orange, which is Lani’s youngest’s favorite color so I’ll have one fan. Her other favorite color is green, which would be an improvement, I have a feeling. Maybe the avocado conditioner will tone it down some.

This is not good. Unless you can appreciate the comic potential. Also I have people coming for dinner tomorrow night. Fortunately, it’s Laura Resnick and Mary Jo Putney, and they’ve seen me looking lousy before but I’d really rather not achieve a new low if I don’t have to.

But by god I embraced Change. Which I think just kneed me in the groin.

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So I was all prepared to come in here and do a comic rif on how awful it was, but I like it. I may feel differently tomorrow in the daylight, but I’m pretty happy right now.

Of course, it’s discontinued.