Venus Envy

My sister has always been beautiful. Even as a baby with her white feather hair and her enormous blue eyes and her nickname, Tweetybird, she was beautiful. Her white feather hair grew into straight, thick, long, blond tresses and her big blue eyes, though no longer the sapphire blue of her infancy, remained sparkling. Five years my junior, she caught up with me in height in our teenage years. Our facial features were similar enough for her boyfriend to comment, "creepy" when he first met me when I was home from college one weekend. But, all physical similarities end there.

My sister is fair, I am dark. She is blond, I am brunette, her eyes blue, mine brown. Her hair is straight and thick, mine wavy and thin. She is tall and thin (willowy, even), I am tall and, well - let's just say I could stand to lose a few pounds.

I like to think my sister looked up to me when we were growing up. As the oldest I had to "blaze the trail." She learned by observing as I survived junior high, convinced our parents it was okay to date, cruised through high school, and left for college. She raided my closet for clothes and borrowed makeup and record albums. She attended my college and joined my sorority; maybe I did have some influence. However, she surpassed me in everything - prettier, thinner, smarter, more popular. In college she had her own car and her own apartment. In college I bummed rides and lived in campus housing.

Was I jealous of my sister? No. I didn't begrudge her any of her accomplishments and successes, rather, I was proud of her. Even if I wished I were thinner or had possessed a car or my very own apartment while away at college, I cheered her every victory.

As adults we are on more even ground, both happily married, with beautiful children and full, satisfying lives. Yet there is one thing I do envy about my sister. (No, it's not her lithe figure.) I envy my sister's hair! What began as white feathers and grew into long, thick, straight, flaxen hair is now a beautiful, extremely sophisticated gray. Surprised? Surprised that I envy her gray hair? It's not just the beauty of the color of her still thick hair that I envy. I envy the freedom her hair gives her. She isn't tied to a monthly appointment with a colorist, lest her roots begin to show. She doesn't fret over just the right cut to make her thin hair look fuller. She doesn't waste money or time on thickening shampoos and blow-drying the "frizz" out. Most importantly, her hair gives her the freedom to be herself, a beautiful woman approaching her fifties, not someone trying to look like the picture on the Miss Clairol bottle.

So, why don't I just ditch the hair color and go gray with her? I've tried. My hair is not the pretty, vibrant gray of my sister's. Mine is a dull, mousy gray that leaves me looking and feeling old, tired, and washed out. That is why I continue to color, why I give up my desire to be a "natural woman," why I make my colorist a rich man.

How long will I continue this un-feminist ritual? I'm not sure. All I can tell you is - my grandmother, the famous Big Red, only this year quit dying her hair. If I follow in her footsteps, I will "go gray" when I am 102 years old. That is only 588 more appointments with a colorist and, if prices don't go up, only $44,000. Yes, I envy my sister.