As we practice social distancing whether, telecommuting, homeschooling, or closet-cleaning, I thought I’d offer some levity during the pandemic. Hair color is becoming a pressing issue as we settle into our new lockdown lives. (I improvised on photos to fit the post. Internet jam.)

I am sheltered-in-place in the Bay Area where only essential businesses are open during the corona virus outbreak. I shared my current state with my family across the country in a group text.

“Yes, I’m fine. Food. Wine. Toilet paper. “ I told them. “But, the HAIR! Just three days away from a hair color appointment. Canceled!”

My siblings rolled their emoji eyes at my cries of gray roots.

“First world problems,” one sister said.

“Ha! That’s life on a navy ship.” replied my former sailor bro. “Can’t go anywhere.”

“But what did they do about hair?” I asked him.

“Oh. We didn’t have any women.” He answered.

“You’re not going to see anyone. Who cares?” chimed in another sister. Ahh siblings..

“I’m going to see ME every day. I care.” I said.

This is how we will take selfies in three weeks. No roots!

And I know I’m not the only one who is freaking out over hair color versus toilet paper. The Facebook posts of:

 “Hair Color Recs? Go!”

 “In three weeks, we’ll know everyone’s true hair color.”

“Any hair stylist willing to make stealth house calls for a few foils?”

“What am I gonna do?!?”

Before the lockdown, I sat with a few friends for coffee. We laughed about all the T.P. memes and how stupid the frenzy was and then the convo got serious.

“My hair appointment is next Thursday. I hope I can go before everything shuts down.” I said solemnly, staring at my shoes..

“Oh. I never thought about that. I might have to buy a box of color—two in fact,” said Sue.

“I like Madison Reed hair mascara,” Ali added.

Those priceless words of hair color advice stayed with me as the restriction noose tightened and calls for social distancing grew louder.

Should I stock up on hair color like it’s toilet paper? What if I wreck my hair?

I sat on the old-school box color idea for a few days. I was leery. Images of my mom hunched over the tub with a ratty, olive-green towel draped around her shoulders flashed in my head. Her plastic-gloved hands were stained with the dark color she massaged into her scalp. It smelled and it was messy. The gray disappeared, but her hair was a solid brown mop. Back then, there were no highlights for that natural look.

Can I color my hair like it’s 1970? OMG! I’m becoming my mother.

Fate forced my hand. A news flash stated a shelter-in-place would take place by midnight. I dropped everything and grabbed a few items from the grocery store: pork tenderloin (chicken is always out), tomatoes, tortillas and honey. The drugstore was next door. I cruised down the long, long hair color aisle. OMG! Which one? Clairol or L’Oreal? Wow, they are both still around?

I went for the more expensive of the two, L’Oreal, because I’m worth it. Ha! What’s an extra buck? I grabbed the last box, golden blonde. I felt lucky as there are a lot of blondes in my town.

A Live Bottle of Sriracha! Hides Roots. I DO NOT WANT TO LOOK LIKE THIS!

Then, that creepy facebook or siri overheard my talks of hair color. Several ads from Madison Reed, an online hair color product, popped into my feed.  Models waved their shiny, colorful locks. Then, the frizzy, broken haired models popped up, the results of box hair color full of toxins and ammonia.

I bit.

I have to say, clicking on the website was like walking into a friendly store. They anticipated my every need. I picked four shades of blonde color “off the shelf.” I took a photo of myself so I could “try on” each color, virtually.

The winner: Dark Champagne Blonde. I LOVE CHAMPAGNE!

Then I was asked a bunch of questions like how often I color? What do my roots look like, as in how bad is it? Photos were provided so I could respond accurately. Do I want shiny hair? Duh! Yeah! No frizz? Of course! And the big one, is this your first time? YES!

Well, it turns out these are what I call the “get ‘cha” questions. Sort of like asking, “Do you want fries with that?”

I armed myself to the hilt. I was not going to screw this up. My cart filled up with shiny hair and no-frizz potions. I threw in the application brush and comb for fifteen bucks too. How was I supposed to get even color like a professional without a flat brush?

The results?

Package just arrived. To Be Continued.

Prosecco! I’m in!