Momma for real

When Babyhead asked me awhile back why I had a white stripe at my forehead I thought it was funny. At first. This was when he just started talking. As the years passed, the pesky "white stripe" came faster and faster. For as fast as it showed up I should have had hair down to the floor. But alas, due to being a frequent dyer as my handsome colorist Thomas told me, my hair would break more often than not.

This merry-go-round of gray coverage began at 23. Yes. 23. Everyone thought it was so chic! So cool! Wow! You look young, but you have a white streak! Yeahyeahyeah. I'm not sure when that commentary stopped. I noticed as soon as I colored, I got the lowball age guesses. With the white? Pretty close to my true age. Hey, I'm proud of my age and what I've done in my life, but can I have some vanity?! Gray be gone girl has become my anthem .

Sure babyhead was scared a few times when he saw momma for real, what I like to call it when I'm breaking out my box of Feria, or whatever was on sale at Riteaid.
Sure he cried when I tried to pick him up with hair color dripping down my hairline, regardless of the 2 inch Vaseline slathered across my face. He's gotten used to it. My husband bless his heart loves the gray and periodically tells me to not color. Huh?

Today an actress I recently met called with a hair emergency: she couldn't get into her colorist and she had a big presentation. I texted her my favorite hair tween time product: Bumble and Bumble Hair Powder. It's a game changer in a can. Back you come from the ledge of dowdy. One or two spritzes and you are 27 (insert your preference) again. I've tried EVERY temporary hair color product out there. Seriously. This is it. Babyhead asked me last week where was my white line? I told him it magically disappeared. He laughed and called me magic momma.

Run don't walk. Bring your sexy back.