|Image from http://collider.com/cruella-de-vil-movie-disney/|
Or so I thought.
Just before my 33rd birthday, I noticed a snow white strand. I stared at it for a long time in the mirror, but it was just one and I thought I could handle it.
The single white strand soon had four neighbors positioned on the right side of my hairline. All shared the same wirey texture that made it easy for them to stick straight up. Still, I can't imagine myself ever dying my hair. I figured this was nature's way of transitioning me from nearly black hair to bright white. Surely conditioner would help these new hairs to bend?
My husband noticed. At least I think that's why he sang "Cruella de Vil... Cruella de Vil... if she doesn't scare you... nobody will..." every time he saw me.
The white strands were about four inches long on the day that I waited in line behind a woman who was further along in the transition than myself. I'm sure she's a very nice lady, fighting the no hair color fight valiantly, but she looked like a witch.
I went home and plucked all five of my pigment challenged friends.
I had hopes that this would stave off my Cruella de Vil days for a few years. There had been a similar white hair when I was seventeen. It was strangely thick and seemed like the kind of thing that would have a Marvel comics' super hero origin story. It has never reappeared since I plucked it back in 1997.
Unfortunately, these five are strong. They're all back. And I've decided to let them grow. I can hear my husband singing already and dalmatians are looking cuter by the minute.