Its Not You, Its Me
By Allison Adams 02-06-11 / Submitted to The Greeneville Sun on 02-07-11
We’ve had wonderful relationship for a long, long time. We’ve seen each other regularly for over a decade, and throughout those years you have been my confidant and my trusted advisor.
I can’t think of too many things in my life that I’ve put before you. There have even been times when I neglected some real important things – like a friend’s wedding, or a doctor’s appointment, or my daughter’s piano recital – just so I could be at your disposal.
I’ve even dragged my feverish, pitiful self up and out of my own sickbed because I couldn’t bear to miss our time together.
I realized how just serious I was about our relationship when I voluntarily cut my family’s annual beach vacation short just so I could get back in time to see you.
Our dates together have always been “inked” on my calendar.
Your work phone, cell phone, and home phone numbers have occupied the top three spots on my speed dial list.
I the words of the Supremes: “Ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no valley low enough, ain’t no river wide enough to keep me from getting to you, baybay.”
Our relationship is deeply rooted, but the truth is I’ve grown weary … of my regular root touch-ups.
I don’t know how to tell you this except to say that I’ve come to a different place in my life. I’ve changed my mind about something that will affect our future together: I’ve decided to embrace my gray hair.
That’s right - you heard me: I’m not fooling anyone anymore.
I know you’re sensitive enough to have seen this coming. I’ve been dropping some serious hints for about two years, but every time I said something about giving-in to my gray hair, you tried to brush me off.
You said I wasn’t ready.
You said I’d be sorry.
You even went so far as to say that I was your “cash cow” – but I knew you meant it lovingly.
Well my mind’s made up - I’m afraid you no longer own my head.
No more secrets, Jan. Now everyone will know what once only my hairdresser knew.
I’m ready to parade around publicly beneath my pale, pigment-less pelt.
Oh – I know it’s not going to be nice-n-easy. The months ahead will be extremely awkward for me: Vanity, thy name is Allison.
I'm well aware that people will look at my transitional tresses and wonder why I haven’t bothered to glance into a mirror.
They'll wonder why I’ve obviously missed several critical hair appointments.
They'll even wonder if I’ve totally lost … your telephone number.
But I will not turn back. I have made up my mind.
I just want you to understand that its not you, its me.
You’ve been wonderful, really. I couldn’t possible have asked for more from you. What began as a rescue mission from my self-inflicted over-the-counter hair color debacle back in Y2K, quickly blossomed into a decade of standing appointments so you could carefully, chemically enhance my natural hair color every three and a half weeks – come H-E-Double Hockey Sticks or high water.
And as long you maintained my mane no one knew that beneath that carefully concocted hair color I was naturally “granny gray”.
Dear Jan, after you’ve had some time to allow all of this to sink in, I hope you’ll agree that we can still be friends.
After all, we’ve come so far together … and I’ll still need you to cut and style my lackluster locks.
We just can’t go back to the way we were. Those days are gone.
(If you have an opening next Tuesday I could really use a trim.)