When T and I first hooked up I wasn’t coloring my hair. I got tired of the grow-out phases, and mostly, I just didn’t care. Plus, I thought my hair looked good white/gray/brown. But, shortly after we started dating I went back to coloring my hair. And here’s why: I didn’t want to look that much older than she. We are the same age – although I was born in the spring and she was born in the fall, but in the same year. And, we both look pretty damn good for 49, I think. But, I didn’t want to look like some old gal going with a youngster. A cougar. A sugar mama. So, I started coloring my hair.
Now, however, my birthday is coming up. It’s a milepost year; a threshold. And I don’t feel like coloring my hair anymore. It’s very pretty. It’s longish, shoulder length, a warm caramel brown. It’s a pleasure to brush it. It’s long enough to pull back into a ponytail when I work out. But, I’m tired of it. I’m planning on cutting it fairly short and letting it grow out to its natural color. Ok, so people may look at us and think, “Wow, what’s that hottie doing with the old bag?” But, I don’t care. We’ll see how long that lasts. Because, after all, it’s just hair and mine grows out so fast that it can be completely different in six months.