So vain

I may have reached a new height (or low?) of vanity yesterday. For the first time in my life, I colored my own hair.

Mind you, this is newly regrown hair that is only about a quarter of an inch long in most places. And most people I encounter don't even see it because I keep it hidden under a wig when I am out in public. But it was more gray than I cared to see when I passed a mirror while puttering around the house, and I was concerned that a stray gray might pop out around the edges of my wig.

The coloring supplies were already at hand. My niece and former colorist made sure I was stocked up last year on a visit from her new home in South Carolina, back when I still had plenty of hair to color. Her mother (my sister) had taken over the hair-coloring duty for several of us in the family, but my supplies sat unneeded on a closet shelf since I began chemo in October.

Making yesterday's exercise even sillier is the expectation that I will begin a new course of chemo in the next few weeks. The follow-up treatment has not been decided yet, but that is the direction it has been pointing. In that case, the gray I hid yesterday likely wouldn't stay around long enough to grow long enough to be seen in public.

No matter. I still see myself in the mirror often enough to wince at too much gray hair. Now I smile back at myself, partly because I like the new youthful image and partly because I know how silly I am to color hair that so few people will see.