Shades of grey

Talk about serendipity. Earlier this evening I had a conversation with my mother about her decision to 'go grey', and then what do I read? A post from Nappy Valley Girl about blonding herself - and how despite the fact that she was not dressed to impress, she still elicited whistles from builders on her way home from the hairdressers...

Just to digress for a moment (it's been a while, cut me some slack), I'm not blonde. Sadly. But I have always thought that if could pop back in time around, oh, 43 years ago, and have a word with the Gene Fairy before my conception, I might put in a bid for some blonde locks. For some reason I always thought that if I had naturally blonde hair, there would be no stopping me. No stopping me at what, is something I'm not sure of however.

In any case, I know what she would have said. Auntie Gene would have laughed outright at me. "Blonde! Blonde? Are you crazy? There hasn't been anyone with properly fair hair in your gene pool for around 400 years! Not since before those pesky Moors got washed up on the Dorset coast and got busy with the local senorita's has there been anyone naturally blonde in your mother's family. And as for your Dad's side, well the Irish potato famine and the exodus to Liverpool put paid to the previously blonde Scottish roots there, so really, Potty, fughedaboudit..."

But anyway, this post wasn't supposed to be about my sad blonde dreams. I'm a brunette, and that's how it's going to stay. Indefinitely. Come hell or high water. Which takes me back to my conversation with Mum.

A bit of background here: my mum was - still is - what they used to call in the '60's 'a looker'. Frankly, 45 years later Dad still can't believe his luck. And to add to her natural good looks, she's got excellent genes (so there is something to thank the fairy for, after all), works hard at the gym, and gets her hair coloured regularly. As a result, she looks at least 10 years younger than she actually is. When I was in my 20's and she was only 23 years older, people usually assumed we were sisters. There is a classic story of how, at a dinner party with my father, she mentioned her mid-20's daughters to another guest, who looked at her intently and asked, very diplomatically "And did you... inherit your children?". So you get the picture. She looks young.

But now, fast approaching 65, she has announced her intention to go grey - or at least to try it out and see how it looks.

It shouldn't be any of my business, I know. It's her hair, not mine. Although let me tell you, whilst I am lucky enough not to be very grey right now, the moment I feel it's getting out of control I will be dealing with that; I will not go quietly into that grey night...

So why do I so desperately want her to keep her coloured hair?

Vanity, vanity, all is vanity. As my non-naturally blonde sister (also fighting the grey to the last stand) pointed out last night, whilst our mum looks young, then so do we. And frankly, I'll take any help I can get in that respect.

Mum, don't do it!