Day 62: Hair

A good friend tells me that I have "LOTS OF GREY HAIR, which makes me look OLD". Another good friend tells me that I have typical old Japanese lady hair. I may need to change the definition of "good friend" on them one day, but I take their comment to heart. I have a theory that one should age gracefully, and not obsess about youth. I like women with well coiffed grey hair. It makes them look wise and elegant. My husband says it makes them look old.

This morning, I drive to Japan town to get a new look. Two and a half hours later, I emerge with seaweed black hair and a "wanna look young" hairdo, which I immediately destroy by re-shaping into old Japanese lady hair. I lunch with a friend who politely says I look great.

Once home, I approach my daughter, Aya, who is still recovering from a bout of tummy bug. "Whoa!", she says. "It looks really black." Upon further interogation on whether that is supposed to indicate good or bad, she says, "Well, you did it. It's not like you have much choice now." I marvel at the power of words. How much more eloquently can one say "bad" without using the word?

The other kids come home, too. Camille says "Whoa, what did you do to your hair?". Julien says "It looks PURPLE, like a rock star." The only one who says it looks nice maybe too often, is Maxime. I remember now the hairdresser saying I could always change the color next time. My husband is wonderful. He comes home and says "It looks great. You look young and cute, just like when I met you." Even though I know this is stretching the truth a little, I am humored into thinking it's not so bad after all.