Coloring My Roots

Before there was gray, I colored my hair to match the roots. Deep brunette painted golden highlights, bringing warmth to summer kissed skin. Transitioning to fall, a blank canvas disguised the need for a practical solution to the “what ifs” that laid ahead. Looking at myself in the mirror that day brought memories of carefree…

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Middle Age

The scent of my mother’s Clairol Nice and Easy solution in Medium Warm Brown wafts through our kitchen. I sit at our cherry wood table staring at my Algebra textbook. She unwraps the cellophane from her head and cranes her neck under the kitchen faucet to rinse. “It always starts out a little dark,” she says…

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More At Peace

I will always be perplexed as to why hair is so deeply tied to our identity.  I also wonder why haircuts, new coloring, or any significant change throws me back to Junior High.  I am my body. I am more than my body.  But my hair sometimes seems more than me.   I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…

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