According to my mother, I came into this world with a head full of black hair.  I’ll have to take her word for it because my memory can’t stretch back that far (oh, let’s say 40 years, give or take a few).  I was a good baby (of course!), and true-to-form of all good babies, I lost most of my hair fairly quickly.  Digression: The wives’ tale is that good babies rub their hair off because they sleep so much, therefore their heads are  in almost constant contact with the sheet.  But now that I think about it, wouldn’t squirmy, fussy babies rub it off faster?  And since babies can’t do anything but lie around, isn’t every baby’s head in contact with something all the time?

So many conundrums in life to contemplate ::sigh:: But, let’s move on with the post.

The black hair came out and was replaced by blonde which stayed that way for a couple of years and then began to get dark again–very, very dark.  By the time I started school, I was a brunette.  My hair was never the gorgeous, glossy jet black so many women are blessed with.  Just the average dark brown with some red highlights in the summer sun.

At the age of 28, I started getting a gray streak in the front that I actually thought was pretty cool.  By the time I hit 40,  it had spread across the top of my head like a fungus and had lost most (read:all) of its appeal.  OMG!  I was 40 and had enough gray hair that I actually had people ask me who did my frosting!  My hair was short in the back, so the majority  of it was that icky shade of gray that I detested.

Enter Lady Clairol.  Yes indeed, I tried my hand at home coloring, choosing a nice, dark ash brown on the box.  The fiasco ended with me acquiring a new nickname from my colleagues at work–Gina Lollobridgida.  I had chosen poorly.  The color was waaayyyy too dark, especially after everyone had gotten used to seeing me with all that silver around my face.

My hair stylist saved me with a do-over in a lighter shade–still dark brown, but a pretty shade of dark brown–and all was good for a few years.   But, because I’d never colored my hair until I hit forty, I had years to make up for.

Let the experimenting begin!  We went almost every shade of brown imaginable first, and then we took to the reds.  I went through a few odd shades that ranged from rocket-fire red to an interesting burgundy before finally settling on a nice auburn for a few years.

Other people have wandering feet or wandering eyes; I have a wandering head, it seems.  And it wasn’t long before I was ready for something new.  This time we went back to my natural dark brown, but we added blonde highlights.  It was a good look–the one Mother Nature had been trying to give me years before–she’d just chosen the wrong shade for the highlights.  As the years passed, we started adding more and more highlights.  And more.  And more.  One day I looked in the mirror and saw that I had gone completely blonde.  And now that blonde gets lighter and lighter.  I think the plan is to keep getting lighter until I’ve gone platinum.  And maybe at that point, I’ll just let the gray grow in naturally.  That’s still up for debate at this time, though.

I’ve never added them all up, but my hair has been many, MANY different shades of many different colors.  Maybe not 50 of them, but stay tuned–I have an appointment at the end of this week.

How about you?  Have you ever colored your hair?  What is your favorite shade that you’ve been?