When your hair matches your gray sweatshirt, it's time to dye!

“Now that you’re well, let’s talk about your hair,” she said over eggs and toast at the diner. “I like it better not gray.” This is what best friends are for, right?

I will not put you through the torture of a vote for or against dye or no dye this time, dear readers, although I did appreciate the hundreds of thoughtful votes and responses to my query last time.

The truth is, I was totally thrilled with the transformation miracle Debra performed on my hair over at Salon Neveah, as you can see here in my short before and after Get the Gray Hair Out! video. I do think I look ten years younger without the gray. And I like looking ten years younger.

I do not feel a need to publicly state my reasons for or against aging gracefully by pretending my hair isn’t gray, because frankly, I already did that and I don’t want to bore you.

But, yeah, in a nutshell, the vanity part of my brain super liked it when the 20 something-year-old kid at the grocery store carded me a few days before my 45th birthday when I was buying wine on the way home from swimming at the YMCA. My dark, non-gray hair was wet, and my lack of makeup couldn’t cover up anything. It was just me, being natural, except for the pretend hair.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly when I showed him my license after determining that yes, he really was serious. “We’re supposed to card anyone under 30, and honestly, my guess was that you were in your early 30’s but I didn’t know for sure.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, a little too giggly, as my teenagers appeared at that moment, to help me carry the groceries, “I should give you a tip!”

“No, no,” he said, clearly embarrassed that indeed, I was old enough to be his mother, since I had children who were just a few years younger than him. “Happy birthday.”

Seriously.

A middle-aged mom’s gotta hang on to this stuff as long as she can. Don’t judge me.