who c'hairs?

I got bad highlights the other day and it resulted in an existential crisis.

My hairdresser is actually very skilled and all of my times in her chair I have had great results. A few, tastefully done highlights that make me look fraishe and natural. Some grey still there but camouflaged slightly by some soft golden and light brown hues. NO one could even tell that I'd coloured my hair! Genius. But this time I wanted to "go a little lighter, but not Marilyn Monroe light haha" because, you know, it's summer time and all that. Lighten up! Then she got to talking to her other customer and forgot about my foils. So now I have hair that I haven't had since 1988: Hair with what look like homemade highlights from Sun-In and lemon juice.

And then I obsessed about it. Here is the very embarrassing primary thought around which all the obsessing occurred: "This looks so fake. People are going to think that I'm a middle-aged woman who is trying too hard."

Let's unpack that a little bit, shall we? And let's do it with this gem of an insight (not mine) to help us:

all suffering is showing you is where your mind is still clinging

So what am I still clinging to?

My youth, obviously.

Of wanting to 'look good' whatever that means.

What people think of me.

I'm afraid that that people will feel sorry for me, pity me and judge me for trying too hard to look younger when, in reality, I am in the middle, nay, past the middle of my life. That people will think I have no taste and am from the Backwater, believing that I actually think I look good. I think this also shows me that these are the thoughts I might have about someone else. Don't we judge others because we judge ourselves so much? Who knows? I don't mean to judge. It just automatically happens. I once read it has to do with categorizing others to maintain and understand our own status. The pecking order. The survival hierarchy straight outta biology. All I know is that I got some highlights I didn't like and I fell through the Looking Glass. Not as blonde as Alice, but close.

And all of this stuff doesn't matter AT ALL. It's all ego-based bullshit that takes up so much space in my wee brain and I wish I didn't think any of it, at all, ever. I wish I was the type of person who would laugh and say, "Oh look at that. haha. It'll grow out. What's for dinner?" and not have a second thought about it. But I had 6,544 second thoughts about it.

A little later, with a twinkle in his eye, my husband asked, "Is it growing on you?" I snapped a quick no, until I registered his pun. Then I groaned. Puns do that. But it's a good question. Only the fact is it's not growing on me but forcing me to grow. It feels a bit lame to have spiritual insights from bad highlights but, why not? It all continues to be part of the path. Of what? Of growth. Bad highlights and all.