Today is just another day in my monthly saga of washing away gray. Brings to mind the movie South Pacific and Mitzy Gaynor singing one of the pictures great songs, “I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair.”  But in this case I’m changing the word man to gray and then singing and dancing as I work this new color into my head.  The color this time is a bit darker than my usual Champaign I have been using.  Since it’s coming up summer and I have a convertible the sun tends to turn my hair white pretty quickly.  So I now guess I’m not sending gray on its way at this age in my life but white.  I will be getting my hair cut today and the beautician will say that I have colored over that natual color many of her customers are dying to get.  The problem is the women trying to get my natural color are 30 and 40 years younger than me. On them my natural color looks stylish, smart, quirky and cool.  On me it enhances my age.  My age is okay with me, I just want to have that stylish, smart, quirky and cool look for my age. Not the just old look that the color gray brings to mind.  I do get a high when people can’t  believe I have a 48 year old daughter.  I do and I’m proud and happy I do but I still get a high from people who don’t believe I’m that old. It’s the same feeling mother’s get as they get carded  buying alcohol or cigs if their teenage kids aren’t with them. It’s a much better feeling then when your 6 year old asked how old she had to be today as we were purchasing tickets at Disney World’s ticket office about 40 years ago.  That was when my hair was a dirty blond and my body was still bikini able and ready.  NOW since a bikini would no longer hug my curves but gets lost in my overly inflated curves at least I can still “Wash that gray right out of my hair.”