To dye or not to dye...a hair-raising tale

I knew that my white hairs were becoming increasingly plentiful when a fellow PTA executive board member blurted out "You've got so many white hairs na, no?" And considering that the only other conversations I've really had with this guy had been mostly business-related, it must have disturbed him no end to see these silvery-white tendrils peeking out from my otherwise dark brown mane. And considering further that the guy in question also has predominantly white hair already, I just parried back, "Yes, because I want to look like you."


I joke about it but really, I find myself at the same kind of crossroads I was in ten years ago when I was in my mid-thirties, newly single, and a head of hair that had started to show more white than was normal for other women my age then. I knew that if I colored my hair, it would be a continuing commitment to go at least once every few months to the colorist. On the other hand, letting my hair go "grey" (a term more used by the english speaking world) or "white" ("puti" as they say here in the Philippines) would undoubtedly make me look older than mid-thirties. At that time, I also needed a change and what could be better than the ability to change your hair color a different shade every so often?

Not that I've been really experimental with my hair, but there have been times when I sported hair that was quite light-colored and brassy with streaks in them. When I lived in New Zealand, my colorist tended to favor lighter (meaning blonder) colors because her clients were predominantly white. I refer to those episodes now as my "japayuki" phase and am thankful that I lived then in a country that didn't really care what you looked like as long as you were a decent person and you were happy. If I did that in the Philippines, people would think I twirled around poles for a living or else worked in a band; not that there's anything particularly wrong about twirling poles for a living, and to be honest, if I had to live my life all over again, I'd probably join a band and tour the world, but that's another story.

Recently though, I've really been thinking about junking the whole hair dye thing for many reasons. One is on grounds of health. I think that I may be developing an allergy to peroxide because my scalp just stings like crazy whenever I go for hair dye. There are now non-peroxide choices on the market but these are not considered as long-lasting as the peroxide ones. Another reason, and this I think is the more important one, is that ever since I started coloring my hair, I have been constrained in the activities that I participated in. For instance, I couldn't swim in a pool for at least 2 weeks after a hair dye treatment, otherwise, my hair would turn green from the chlorine. Also, hair treatments such as perms, dyes and rebonds tend to weaken hair so I've stayed away from diving and other water sports for this reason in the past. Reflecting back on it, I've probably become quite of a fuddy-duddy these past 10 years because (*gasp*) I didn't want my hair to get ruined.

This has all changed recently with my son growing up and wanting to be more active in water sports. Because there is no father I can foist him on (not that I would want to foist him anyway), I have had to don diving gear once more, to heck with the hair drying up and looking like a badjao or a cat that has spent some time in the dryer. I've put off touching up the roots week after week because we would be diving one weekend or off to the beach another or going on holiday that would mean lots of instances for the hair to be dunked in seawater or chlorine. No sense in coloring your hair when it's just going to get ruined, right?

So now I find myself at a familiar junction. I do admit that with my hair all nicely colored, I have been able to fool people that I'm still in my 30's. But that has never been an over-riding consideration. I would like to think that age is more than looks; it's all about attitude.

And that is exactly what I saw in this lady who was a contemporary of mine at the University of the Philippines. When we were in UP, I thought of her as cool and liberated. She lived in with her boyfriend at a time when that was still considered radical, if not outright taboo. When she became pregnant, she carried her pregnancy proudly. At the wake of a dear friend, I espied her (still with her partner, now husband) and she was still as cool and attractive as ever. This time she had on a silvery mane of hair that reminded me of those characters from Moonbase Alpha in the English sci-fi series Space 1999 (I have not been able to find anyone, outside of my brothers John and Kevin, who remember this series but I watched this as a child of 6 or 7 years old in the early 1970's). The women in the show wore silver space suits and silver hair with bangs that formed a little point in the middle like a widow's peak). A more contemporary analogy would be a manga character or one from Japanese anime, you know, the one with silver hair and a youngish face.

We chatted a bit with silver-haired cool lady and I told her eventually how much I liked her hair and that she looked so cool. She told me that when her hair started turning white, she just let it. She joked about looking like Lady Gaga, the pop-star whose hair always reminded me of those sported by display mannequins in department storefronts. She did confess, however, that she recently dyed her hair silver to make it more even, especially for photographs. Apparently, white hair did not photograph well.

So now, I'm back to the old question: To dye or not to dye? In the meantime, I'm off to join Karwin, Kevin & Joy, and friends on another dive next week.

Close Encounters of the Weird Kind

On the way home from the dentist today, I decided to stop by Fully Booked to see if they had a case for dad's toy, a Kindle, that "adopted daughter" May had given him for his birthday. I knew the chances of finding the case were one in a million but never mind, that was just an excuse.

So there I was at the magazine stand, looking over some fashion magazines, lifestyle magazines, celebrity gossip magazines, taking some out of the stand to read the cover page to see if the contents were worthwhile for me to part hard earned cash for. I had just pulled Allure Magazine from the rack when I suddenly felt this presence next to me and heard this voice say "Megan Fox". I stopped, thinking that it might be one of my friends sneaking up to me as friends are wont to do. I turned to my left to see this total stranger. He was tall, moreno, about late 20's or early 30's, not bad looking, fit and if truth be told, smelled a bit sweaty. He must have come from the gym because he was carrying a small towel.

"Megan Fox", he said again, gesturing to the magazine in my hand. True enough, Megan Fox was the cover girl.

"Ah yes", I replied, not knowing what else to say.

"I like Megan Fox", he says. I nodded, just being polite. He creeped me out somehow.

"I find her sexy. I have a tattoo of her on my arm", and he proceeded to lift the sleeve of his right arm to show me his bicep with a sultry Megan Fox tattooed on it.

Creep-o-meter now jangled very sharply in my brain. Hey, I didn't know this guy from Adam and he was showing me parts of his anatomy that I didn't care to see, not that these were private. But, you know?

He must have seen me wince and step back a little at his overly familiar actions because he hastily added "I'm a film director."

I lifted an eyebrow "Oh?"

"I'm a film director", he repeated, to which I replied, "That's good" while moving ever so slowly away and looking down at my Megan Fox magazine.

He probably decided I was a waste of time and left just as quickly as he appeared, leaving only the smell of sweat behind. After a few seconds I looked up to see if he was still around and was thankful he had gone.

On the way home, I texted my brothers Kerwin and Kevin about the incident, asking Kerwin if he knew anyone in the film industry with a Megan Fox tattoo.

Kerwin texted me back saying "Hahahahaha. Half the wackos claim to be directors."

We have these weird encounters every so often. Today was one.