It's June, and I just can't find it in me to write about anything too heavy handed, so let's talk about first world issues. Hair.
Living in Los Angeles, I see a lot of cool moms. Thin ones, round ones rocking ripped jeans, colorful hair, piercings, you name it. Try as I might, I can't totally pull off the cool look despite my admiration for edge.
A few months back, I started looking at Pinterest boards of women with platinum hair. I got the itch to do something drastic. Despite my 38 years of age, I still believe in incorporating some funk to help get you out of a funk.
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So if you have ever wondered what it's like to go platinum, here's how I did it and the reaction I received.
Here I was right before I dyed it:
Neither here nor there, most days my hair was wadded up in a bun. I happened to be put together here, it's a rarity I assure you. Don't get me wrong, I have tried a lot of different colors and styles in the past.
I booked an appointment with someone I trust with hair. The woman is good. I have known her for almost 15 years. I didn't tell her my idea, mistake No. 1, because bleaching your head takes a lot of time, so if you decide to bleach your hair, let your hairdresser and babysitter or partner know. You will be gone for four to six hours. Seriously.
She had to put my hair in tin foil, section by section. Then I sat and waited. When she took it off, I tried not to freak out at my newly white head of wet hair. Then she did a Keratine treatment to restore some moisture. Again, more sitting and waiting. All in all, it took six hours. I'm a low maintenance person so this was beyond me.
Fortunately, I was just coming off two weeks with the kids home from Spring Break. Strangely my husband never asked why it was taking so long. After sitting there for so long, suddenly, I was platinum.
I whispered nervously to my hairstylist, "I don't look like a blonde bimbo, do I?" That's never been my aspiration.
She laughed and assured me it looked edgy and I quickly snapped a selfie.
Women who follow me on Instagram seemed to love it. I think women, especially women like me, almost 40 or in their 40s and beyond, appreciate when one of us embraces a bold look. Someone suggested I throw on red lipstick. I did and took another selfie.
This time my 5-year-old snapped a photo. I totally channeled Kurt Cobain/Courtney Love here. I mean, heck, I graduated high school 20 years ago, overalls and Doc Marteens are back in style, so why not.
My husband's and kids' reactions were very different. My husband was quite wordless. He smiled and shook his head. When he finally found his words, he kindly told me he did not like it. He prefers me more natural.
My oldest said he did not like it.
My 5 year-old boy said I looked weird, and he really didn't like it.
My 3-year-old daughter said my hair was yellow.
I was sort of embarrassed to drop my kids off at school. I wore a hat, but the blonde would not hide. I could tell there were a few who didn't like it. But the young teachers loved it, and my daughter's teacher ended up dying her hair bright red a few weeks later. "You inspired me," she said, laughing. "Why not?"
I do get more looks, not because I'm a sex kitten. I think it's just such a bold look. My hair is actually in really good condition despite the process. I wash it every four days and put a deep conditioner on it. I also bought a cheap, satin pillowcase. Apparently, it helps prevent breakage.
My husband still really does not like it, and I was all set to change it. But two nights ago, I went to a party and the women told me how much they loved it and my husband was wrong. I wasn't in the mood to change it so I kept it.
I'm letting my roots come in.
The whole process honestly takes so long I couldn't keep up with it even if I had the time and money, so my hairdresser just put a few tiny bleached highlights to break up my roots.
So there you have it.
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I realize I live in a progressive city, but I am just not of the belief that experimenting with your looks is only for the young.
Photo by Lindsay Kavet
