A Word About Hair 2: Follicular Boogaloo

As much as I am in love with my cha-cha hair, Oscar is not so enamoured with his hair. Oscar is having issues. Oscar is 29 years old and, well, Oscar is going gray. Only he doesn't like to acknowledge the gray, so if you see him on the street, please do not peer at him with that perplexed expression while you try to figure out if those are highlights, or if this really cute guy, who looks so YOUNG, is honestly going gray. It makes him cranky, and since you're not the one who has to go home with him, I'd consider it a personal favor if you would just pretend that those little gray hairs don't actually exist. Consider it your good deed for the day.

In any event, Oscar and I both had hair appointments the other night, and Oscar had scheduled it such that we were going to have plenty of time for him to have his hair colored. He wanted to hide the gray, which we do not actually call "gray," because that would imply that Oscar is old enough to actually have gray hair, and which we instead call "albino hairs" because that somehow makes him feel better. Oscar had been looking forward to this appointment for quite some time. That would change quickly.

Once we got into the salon, and got caught up with our stylist, she asked what kind of color he wanted and they briefly discussed what he'd like to do. They didn't get very far before there was a brief lull in the conversation and I piped up, with a pout, that I didn't want him to color his hair, because I like the little albino colony. Little did I know what I was starting. The next thing we knew, our stylist was jumping on the bandwagon, saying that she was so glad I had said something because she wanted to tell him he shouldn't color it, but she didn't want to overstep. Now that I had said something, however, she wanted to point out that the salt and pepper look is very sexy and he should be proud of his hair. Then the stylist next to ours perked up, saying, "Are you thinking of coloring your hair? Why? Girls love the salt and pepper thing. And you're so cute! It's a really hot look. You should keep it." And the client of the stylist next to ours then threw in her two cents and said he should really rethink the color because he looks very attractive with the albino hair. Four women and five minutes of pestering later, and Oscar crumbled like a house of cards. No color for him. Just a cut, thank you. I considered it a victory...I am very fond of his hair.

Sadly, on the drive home, I realized that I might have made a mistake. Oscar's issues with his hair run a little deeper than I had previously believed. The albino hairs make him feel old. They remind him that he is almost 30, and that he hasn't accomplished as much as he would have liked by this point. They taunt him. They force him to face his own mortality. In short, they make Oscar feel all frowny inside. While talking to a friend about it later, he pointed out that it wouldn't have hurt for Oscar to color his hair, as it would surely grow out soon if he decided he (and his cha-cha wife) preferred it au naturel. *cue the silence that resulted as that little nugget permeated my thick skull* Well, gee....why didn't I think of that?

We have another hair appointment in four weeks. I have a feeling Oscar will be getting some color. I will keep you informed.