It's the strangest thing, but the older I get, the more fascinating I find all those advertisements I see for men's hair coloring.
Did you know that with Grecian Formula, "it's as easy as 1-2-3"?
Three little steps, and my whole life will become amazing.
I'll get a better job, own a yacht, and the babes ... oh my goodness! Don't get me started about the babes.
Blondes, brunettes, redheads, all about half my age and all mysteriously wearing bikinis while running their hands through my freshly dyed hair.
Who knew that the only thing holding me back in life is my gray hair?
Apparently, when it comes to being a boon to mankind, penicillin has got nothing on Grecian Formula, and we should be thankful to any Grecians who had anything to do with its creation.
I looked it up, and this miracle product:
"Gradually restores lost color to graying hair ... naturally (of course);
"Works on any color hair;
"Is available in three easy-to-use forms:
What, I ask you, could possibly be better than that?
And the best part is, no one will know I've dyed my hair because according to the product's website (which is obviously on a first-name basis with the stuff), "Grecian is so gradual, there's no risk of sudden or shocking change."
Gee, if only I could believe that ... I'd give ... well, almost anything.
I've rather liked my gray hair until recently. I'm told a bit of gray at the sideburns can give a fellow a sort of distinguished, somewhat dashing, aspect.
Graduating then to a Richard Gere salt-and-pepper topping lets a gentleman look as if he's seen the harsh world for what it is but has managed to emerge with a vestige of his misspent youth.
Totally gray, meanwhile, only means you get a lot of mail from the AARP.
At 58, I'm the oldest guy on the over-35 softball team I play for. I like to think I hold my own, and when the ball is hit to me, sometimes I catch it.
One day, I'm playing first base and chatting with a fellow from the other team who was coaching first. It turns out he's 37.
"Gee," he says, "I only hope that when I'm your age, I can play at all."
He was trying to be nice, but I still would have chased him around with a bat if I thought I could have caught him.
When exactly was it that I became Methuselah?
Someone showed me a photo taken at a wedding I attended not long ago. I was, of course, all dressed up, and I figured at the time that I was looking pretty good.
The photo revealed that I looked pretty good ... assuming I was a greeter at Wal-Mart. Don't get me wrong. I have the utmost respect for those people, and I plan on joining their ranks someday.
Only not today.
Today, I'm poring over the Grecian Formula website, where there is a category of "Frequently Asked Questions." These include:
" What causes gray hair?
" How does Grecian Formula work?
" How soon will I see results?
" Can Grecian damage my hair?
There's also a helpful warning in the unlikely event that I desire a perm.
Those may be frequent questions, but they aren't mine. Here's what I want to know:
" Will "Grecian" make me look ridiculous?
" If it does, can I sue?
" If I don't like how it looks, can I somehow get it the hell out of my hair?
" If I can't, can I sue?
" Is it somehow _ well _ unmanly to dye my hair?
" What happens as my hair grows? Will I be forced to keep buying the product so that small children won't point at my roots and laugh at me?
" What am I trying to prove, anyway?
My job's OK, I don't know what I would do with a yacht, and I'm married to a woman who would probably frown upon seeing all those bikini-clad babes panting at my hair.
It's funny, now that I mention it, even when my hair was jet black and I was single, somehow there were never any women answering that description hanging around me.
For now, they will all just have to learn to live with disappointment. So will all those Grecians. The way I figure it, my children have gone to a lot of trouble giving me all this gray hair.
It would be a shame to hide it from them.
___
Sam Pollak is editor of The Daily Star. He can be reached at spollak@thedailystar.com or at (607) 432-1000, ext. 208.
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