Gray Down There

Gray Down There

In the frantic race to turn back the clock of time, somewhere between Botox and Juviderm shots, a slight oversight of dermatologists everywhere has gotten me obsessed with my graying hairs—down there. Now I have come to peace, to a degree, with those on my head—I started turning gray at an early age, and since nobody on the planet probably remembers what my original color of my hair is or was, because of decades of abusing box dyes, manic panic, bleach and giving free range to my hairdresser for more money than most third world citizens make in year, it is all just a faded memory.

But south of the equator is another story-that is the hair I have been able to count on for years, stayed in check, old reliable front bottom-never sassed back, I kept it neat, kept it tidy, but never for a second did I think I would have to worry about restoring it back to its salad days.

Now I am more than familiar with endless array of box dyes that line the shelves at every grocery/drug/target-y type of superstore, there are oh so many-in countless hues, permanency and brands, all with easy to use instructions, a cheap excuse for rubber gloves, and a very happy model on the front. And though there is hair dye for men to color their graying beards, complete with a hunky looking man on the box—there are no boxes for, well, boxes. Nothing, nada, nunca, for those hairs, well, down there. Is this just because the graphic designers and the corporate cops can’t get it together to agree on a model for the front panel? Or is this come kind of plot to keep the woman down, well, down-down there?

In my hours, ok that is a slight exaggeration, of research for this article; I am overjoyed to report that there has been public advertising on NY City subways for a hair dye product for turning back the hands of time. Who knew? I had no idea, as if I was living under some rock in the desert.

All I can say, is where would I be without Google? Before my discovery I had been faced with some tough decisions. Sure, I could just shave it all off like a prepubescent girl or a plucked chicken, or invest in a merkin (and where does one buy those I wonder? Should I start on Ebay?). Relieved to know that there is an option and I don’t have to continue feeling like there is one part of me that is hell bent on showing my true age, even if my behaviors and genes are thinking different. Until now, I was at a proverbial pubic crossroads of sorts, not knowing where to turn, wondering if I was the only woman out there with this predicament. I had yet to see a commercial of two women, drinking coffee, stirring their cups dreamily, and then oh so off the cuff, one mention to the other that they were wondering if there was a semi-permanent hair dye for their nether regions.

But why is this product so secretive, so hidden from public view, so hush hush in my city? Does Betty Beauty, the bold makers of this elixir of youth, not realize that this is a plight of many women, everywhere …not just babes in the Big Apple.

Are the mass market/drug stores/and big boxes afraid of the power within such a small little package? Do the buyers of these operations lean more towards the Brazilian than the more natural look? Are they afraid that some people might be offended at the mere site of such a product nestled between the Clairol and L’Oreal hair dyes? Would they consider maybe cozying up Betty Beauty between the razors and hair removal creams, or perhaps over by the feminine needs, as it is a need. I learned on the Betty Beauty website, their product is not a need only reserved for women. They also currently offer two products designed for the prematurely graying man. The packaging is tasteful, no more or less suggestive than the vibrating ring condom by Trojan (huh?) or Summer’s Eve (do they even make that anymore??? And don’t even get me to go on and on about the evils of F.D.S.-feminine deodorant spray…that is just inherently weird and one would hope completely unnecessary).

So why must we go undercover to cover under there? Must everything be taboo in this society? Can we talk openly and freely about these issues, or are the mass retailers just merely ageist suits keeping the woman down-down there?

I have been busy polling my other female friends this week about my graying down south of the equator—and I must say I was so relieved when literally out of the blue, last night, a friend that I rarely get around to chatting with on Facebook, not two minutes into our conversation-mentioned the subject of graying pubic hairs. You can not imagine my relief and giddiness that resulted-what are the odds, I ask? I had mentioned that she had not aged a bit from her profile pic, and she came back with a witty, self-deprecating retort, and then, wham, “what I can’t deal with is my gray pubic hairs”! I almost jumped off my ass and did a happy dance, but didn’t. I then sent her what I had written on the subject, but told here I wasn’t done, needed to tweak and fine tune. Her first response after her initial read, was “for god’s sake, don’t dye them-and if you do, please use something natural”. I replied with “henna?”-imagining matching those of Ronald McDonald’s.

So, now I am back to rethinking messing with Mother Nature. Sure, I know that I don’t think twice about covering my graying roots on my head, but there is something a little unsettling about dying my others. Apart from the general awkward prep and procedure, it is a little weird to think of messing with things, there-but I am not beneath rethinking things as I get older and subsequently grayer. Though I may just wake up one morning with a wild hair or hairs, and hopefully if that day comes, I can run down the street to purchase my box of dye, and make to it. If nothing else, I know they will come back—they always do!