January 20, 2006

Lying Girlfriends

I just found out that I have gray hair. All this time, I thought I had silver highlights. A co-worker came up to me last week and said, "I've been meaning to tell you. I admire your courage in going gray." I sputtered out a "thank you" for what I assumed was meant to be a compliment, then ran to the bathroom to inspect my head in the mirror. So, the silver and gold streaks that nature has strewn through my locks look like plain old gray hair? And I suppose the excess pounds look like fat instead of slack muscle tone. When will people stop disillusioning me?

I brought up this disappointing news bulletin at a gathering of my writer friends, all women of a certain age. Was I really gray? "No!" they cried. "You're a platinum blonde." This is why women of any age need girlfriends. Because they love you and they'll lie to your face to prove it.

In a heartening display of solidarity, the group opened up and shared their own hair stories. It turns out I was the only one who had given up the coloring habit.

Geri, a spiky redhead who appears fifteen years younger than her true age, admitted to having gone through a blond phase herself. To transform her dark brown hair, her hairdresser had to perform a multi-step process over two consecutive days, and Geri finally grew tired of the fuss. She went red because she had the coloring to pull it off.

Tory, another redhead, brought up the fatal mistake that women our age make with their hair: dyeing it dark long after it's stopped being flattering to our soft, pale faces. Better to go lighter, we agreed, even if it's mistaken for gray. By the time we're 80, we'll all be red or platinum, those of us who are lucky enough to have hair left.

Elliotte is a brave explorer in the realm of hair design. She showed off her new "tri-tone" hair, which she had acquired by sitting in a chair at a beauty college and saying "Do with me what you will." Now, THAT"S courage. Her straight, dark Asian hair was a patchwork of red, brown and blonde tufts. We all admired it, although some of us could have been lying, because that's what girlfriends do.

"I used to pluck out my gray hairs," Elliotte confided. "Then I realized that for every one I plucked out, there were two more gray ones growing in."

"Oh, no - you should never pluck!" cried Tory. "You lose enough as it is. When I was in college, I saved the hair that fell out. I pulled it out of my brush and out of the sink. I collected it for awhile just to see how much there was. It adds up."

"I heard that you lose 900 hairs a day," said Elliotte.

"No way!" I said. "I only have 900 hairs on my whole head. If that's true, I'll be completely bald by tomorrow."

As my friends laughed, I looked around the table at these three women. For one moment, they weren't the educated, energetic, accomplished, talented women that are my colleagues and mentors. They were just my girlfriends. I love these chicks. And that's no lie.