Denial n denying; statement that thing is not true or existent; disavowal. This is how the Oxford Dictionary defines the state I have been in since I left my hairdresser’s yesterday. What was supposed to be a carefree and relaxing day bleaching my hair and making me all pretty and blond for our island holiday turned out to be a “life event” so horrendous, so horrifying I can barely bring myself to write about it without sobbing uncontrollably into my Bloody Mary. Yesterday I discovered my first grey hair(s)!
Yesterday started out like any other normal day. I slept until 8am (I am on holiday after all), had a quick breakfast while maintaining my social media presence and catching up on all the GLBT news from around the world. Then got dressed and made my way to my hairstylist’s salon, completely oblivious to the fact that my world was about to be turned upside down.
Seeing as I was bleaching my hair I arrived at the salon early as it normally takes a good 5 to 6 hours for my hair to turn platinum blond. My stylist decided to cut my hair first as I still had some blond bits from the previous bleach in my hair. As he cut my hair I noticed a patch of hair on my fringe that didn’t seem to grow out. There was no regrowth just a blond patch. “It must be my natural highlights” I thought, I remembered having them as a child and how nice of it to make an appearance again now. I was wrong.
Just as my stylist was about to start applying the bleach to my hair, he inspected my blond patch. As he was inspecting it I thought he too was admiring my natural highlights. Then he looked at me and I could tell something was amiss. “Dude, I don't know an easy way to say this. You are starting to go grey.” he said. He called his assistants who also had a look and they confirmed the news I was dreading. So I had a closer look myself. “MOTHERFUCKER!” I screamed in my outside voice in my head. They were right! If it wasn't for my botox everyone in the salon would have seen how shocked I really was.
Mother nature, the cruel bitch that she is, crept up on me like horny dog wanting to hump my leg and snuck in a whole patch of grey hair while I slept. “I am only 34. I am too fucking young to be going grey! This is the last fucking time I will allow my natural hair colour to grow out. Nothing good ever comes of it anyway! NOTHING!” I thought.
Traumatized and depressed I sat at the salon for 4 hours while my hair was being bleached. The grey took off 2 hours of the total bleaching time. It’s not the sort of consolation that makes me happy, but hey, being old I guess an extra two hours to do something else is helpful. Life is short and over far too soon.
It was clear that I have passed my prime and the only way I now will be able to maintain my dignity and the farce of a youthful appearance will be with chemicals, toxins, medical procedures and prayer. This must be why people become reborn Christians: Once the grey hair start appearing and you enter into this phase of life, you realize how close you are to old age and seriously need to start thinking about the hereafter. “Jesus Christ, Mary and Joseph! I cannot believe that I am getting old!” I thought on my drive back home. I was not happy, but the worst was yet to come.
Later that evening I needed to attend to my man hair in my genital area. A couple of days earlier I had a full body wax and all my man hair that was not covered with a G-string was ripped from their follicles. Even though my beautician is completely willing and capable to give me a “crack & sack” wax, I always prefer to tend to that area myself. As I stood in the shower inspecting myself, deciding whether I was going to go completely hairless or not, the unthinkable happened. More grey hair!
“SON OF A BITCH! My crotch and balls too?!! MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!” I screamed as lightning struck (it really did and I don’t just say this for dramatic effect). As I sat on the shower floor crying like an emotionally disturbed child while staring at my old dick and balls, all I could think about was “Do you get like a hair dye for pubic hair or will normal dye do the same thing?” At the end I decided to shave off my pubic hair, all of my pubic hair.
I always knew this day would come, but I thought I had more time. More time to enjoy colouring my hair out of luxury instead of necessity. I am getting old and now for the first time there is proof. I choose not to think about it because it upsets me too much but, in time, I guess I will accept this cruel turn of events and maybe one day I will be able to laugh about it.
Next week hubby and I are flying to Madagascar for a well-deserved island holiday; 12 lazy days of sun, sea, snorkelling, scuba diving and reading a few good books. 12 days of forgetting that we are getting old and going grey!
Till next time.
Happy holidays my dear reader.
May you have a wonderful festive season and a FABULOUS new year!