Old age, mutant, rainbow, pony..

(You have to be of a certain generation to be able to sing this title correctly. Think - Raphael, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and that other one. Right! That's the catchy tune! Sorry that it is going to be stuck in your head for a while. Ear worm? Why, yes, and you are welcome!)

"Hair is the richest ornament of women." - Martin Luther.

"It doesn't matter if your life is perfect as long as your hair color is." Stacy Snapp Killian.

"I think that the most important thing a woman can have - next to talent - is her hairdresser." Joan Crawford.

"You're only as good as your last haircut." - Fran Lebowitz.

Ugh, what is it with a woman's hair? Why are there so many decisions to be made about it? When do you have to cut it? How long do you keep coloring it? How old is too old to wear a ponytail, and is it inappropriate at 53 to be purple and blue?

I have never been too concerned about my hair. I always had a LOT - really thick and fast growing - so in high school I would cut, color, perm, straighten, color again...it was just hair, and it would grow out eventually. I wish I had pictures of all of the cuts and colors, but it changed so often...There was the long hair with poodle perm, the hippie long and straight with bangs, the reverse mullet (super short back and sides with curly puff ball on top - oh God, that was awful), the weird, Incan 'terrace farming' Vs cut at different lengths and layers into the back... maybe it is a good thing I can't find pictures.

The color only changed a couple times when I was younger. I had a maroon stage because it was a school color, and it matched the cheerleading uniform, and I vaguely remember a short stint with some long blue streaks in college. But as I got older, the trips to the salon got fewer and fewer, and the services got decidedly less complicated, until one day I just decided to do it all myself. Honestly, Miss Clairol wouldn't lie to me, right? And if it was looking particularly bad one day, I had scissors. That You-tube video has 280,000 views. Pull it up into a ponytail and cut the ends; now even it up; now maybe some more on top... Oh hell, that's not right....

The self styling went on for years. I began to fancy myself quite the virtuoso with the kitchen shears and box color. So maybe I couldn't always remember the exact color - dark brown; medium rich brown; chestnut; cappuccino; auburn; mahogany... and maybe my hair ended up a little damaged by the bleach and the trauma from pulling hair through caps...maybe the ends were a little frizzy and the streaks a little splotchy, but the MONEY I was saving!

As luck would have it, a friend from school was supposed to take her mom to their hair appointments, and the mother had to cancel. Out of the blue, another teacher volunteered me as a replacement. Then another seconded the idea. And a third! What the hell? What was going on? I had been ambushed! This was an impromptu hair intervention! The circle of so called "friends" began to tighten around me. "She is wonderful! 'Teacher A' goes to her too, did you know? Oh! Also teachers 'B' and 'C'. Doesn't her hair look fabulous? Rochell you really ought to go!" As I stood, perplexed by this sudden enthusiasm for a hair appointment, one of the ladies in the room - refreshingly honest and direct (insert brutally blunt) - spoke up and said, "Your hair is terrible. Go get it fixed." Ok ladies, really, tell me how you really feel - and you have thought this for how long? Offended, gobsmacked, horrified, but faced with the obvious, I had to go. I mean, how could I not?

Oh! The joy of walking out of that salon with a beautiful cut and a radiant color and flawless style...selfies in the chair; selfies in the parking lot; selfies in the car on the drive home (ooops, sorry ma'am. Yes, you probably WERE at the stop sign first, but can you SEE my HAIR?) I was hooked. Two solid years. Every six to eight weeks. Touch up the roots, trim up the ends, a little deep conditioning here and there - my hair was once again luxurious and healthy. I was thrilled.

Which is why it is so hard to explain what happened next.

I have mentioned that I am in my 50's - somewhere in there. My hair is no longer completely brown. I am developing several highlights that are lighter than blonde -infer from that what you will. In a moment of blinding insight (stupid Pintrest) I walked into the salon and announced, "I want to be gray." Not dark gray. Nope. White. Brilliant-platinum-snowy-shining-silver tresses. Helen Mirren white. Emmylou Harris white. Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, white. Sonni was a trooper. 13 months, multiple bleaches, rinses, toners, conditioners..my gosh it went on and on...

But my hair would not turn white. It turned light brown. It turned dark blonde. It turned orange. It turned - is 'straw' a color?- it turned straw. But we persisted, that is, until Sonni hurt her hands. This was an awful thing to happened to a stylist. She was off work for months, and I know it had to have been a very frightening time.

But I was straw!

Fortunately, Jennifer was able to pull me down off the ledge and save me a late night, clandestine date with Miss Clairol. Four appointments later and some serious counseling brought some darker low lights to my mane. Gallons of purple shampoo, some toner had me looking like a human my children were not embarrassed to be seen in public with. Then I saw Jennifer (at the Legion, you know, where I am going to win that money to open that teacher bar in Florida?) Her hair was GRAY - not quite white, but WOW. I wanted that!

She did warn me.

Side note (shocking). My daughter is the boldest hair adventurer I have ever known. All colors of the rainbow, but usually the most gorgeous rich colors of turquoise and emerald. She is a writer - a creative. She lived in Austin, Chicago, and now in Seattle. She is 30. She can get away with that. I am a teacher in conservative small town Indiana. I am not 30.

I cannot get away with that.

Today. I am as close to my daughter's hair as I have ever been. Not as bold, and not emerald...

Ladies, you may remember, back in the 80's, a couple of toys - My Little Pony (look up Sunshower) and Rainbow Bright (Shy Violet). Purples and blues. Yup.

I have come full circle. I am standing outside of a Sally's Beauty Supply. Just a little something to tone it down. Maybe a highlighting cap - I could pull just a few strands through and add some low-lights, you know, more natural. And I wouldn't do it a lot, just a little, just to tide me over until I can get back to Jennifer or Sonni. Come ON man. I just need a little bit, I swear! I can quit anytime...