Youth or Truth? Winning the Hair Game

My hairdresser kinda hates that I've let my hair go salt 'n pepper. (Correction: Make that salt 'n peanuts, which more aptly describes the color of my rapidly fading dishwater blond hair.) At any rate, she doesn't like it. When I went to see her yesterday for a haircut, she lobbed an opening remark at me so casual in its tone of feigned indifference that I almost missed the content. (Okay, the look on her face was pretty telling, too...like she'd been sucking on a lemon.) Her "offhand" comment was something to the effect that it's been over a year now since we've covered the silvery stuff up with three or four subtly blended yet gloriously vibrant shades of energizing color. I volleyed right back at her with "Yeah. And it's not too bad, is it?" Sucking on an even tarter lemon this time, she threw down her racquet and let that conversational ball thunk right to the ground. I didn't pick it up, either. She's the pro, right? I think she may have rattled my confidence.

So here's the deal. As of today, these once lavish (now thinning) locks of mine are completely free of tints and dyes. All I have to do is decide if this is working for me. To that end, I will haul out the handy pros and cons list technique my mother taught me:

Pros:

1. Don't have to sit in salon chair forever with gunk on head.
2. Don't have to smell or pay for gunk.
3. Don't have to make choices about which shade(s) of gunk to use.
4. Don't have to make scene when hubby fails to notice effects of gunk.
5. Hair is healthier sans gunk.

Cons:

1. Am categorized as un-hip throwback by hairdresser.
2. Am occasionally offered senior citizen discount by youthful checkers.
3. Am trapped between "summer" and "spring" on color chart.
4. Am jolted by light to moderate identity crisis when glancing in mirror.
5. Am caught looking like my mother (only a con because she's better at it than I am).

I was going to add as a con that no one has complimented me on my hair lately, but then I remembered that two weeks ago one of my friends said she did like the color. Hmmm. Quandary: Was she being sincere or just trying to cheer my rapidly aging self up?

Looks like I've got some decisions to make. 

Comments, anyone?

(Don't know me? Then just vote your conscience.)   =)

Thought this little old poem of mine might fit here:

Growing Old Gracefully

c1997 by Susan Noyes Anderson

"You're growing old so gracefully,"

is what I'm often told.

Is that a compliment?

Should I be proud, or just consoled?

Do wrinkles glide across my face?

Can old bones creak with style?

Are aching joints more pleasing when

you bend them with a smile?

If silver hair distinguishes and

bifocals refine, then

I am truly elegant,

for both of these are mine.

I'm pleased that most observers find

my aging done with grace,

but I would gladly be more gauche

if that would slow the pace!

(For more poems like this, click here.)