I recently decided, as middle-aged spread began to take over my body, that I needed to give myself a "lift." It had to be something that put the spring back in my step and make me feel more youthful.
I've been on a diet forever, so losing weight was not an option. At least, not one I could consider without starving myself, and I was already down to two pieces of bread and a salad per day. No - this had to be something less painful.
I decided to go blonde.
"Does she or doesn't she?" Only one of these women isn't a real blonde.
"So what," I hear you ask. Well, for someone who has a natural head of dark hair, this was quite an undertaking. The last time I attempted to go blonde was in the 80's when the only bleach strong enough was the one that came with those hair frosting kits. I eventually wound up with a head of straw. I knew the time to stop bleaching my hair had come when it showered little golden shards every time I shook my head.
Thankfully, twenty years later, we've got better products. My hair is actually silkier than it was before. And my husband loves it. He says I should have gone blonde years earlier. Is this what they mean by "blondes have more fun?" I'm not sure I'm having more fun, but I do get more looks on the street. But are the lookers looking at my hair or noticing my roots? Only my hairdresser knows for sure.