“If you don’t love yourself, how can you love anyone else?”

No, these are not the words to a Whitney Houston song. These are the words of my hairdresser trying to convince me to dye my hair.

The last time she wheedled me into it, it set me back about $225. I can’t stand to have hair that’s only one-color, so of course I went for the streaks, which are extra. Way extra.

This time though, she’s not trying to push me into the back room for a three-figure dye job. She’s serious.

“You could do it yourself,” she says. She NEVER talks about DIY projects when it comes to hair, so I know this goes beyond her commission.

“You’d look so much better without all these ugly grays,” she says.

The lights beaming from the ceiling are actually doing a better sales job than my hairdresser. I can see that every single red hair in the crown of my head is now gray. The black ones have remained, but they are dull and lifeless.

Lately I have been joking that I was going for the Morticia Adams look, with one long white streak from the forehead. Now I’m thinking I look more like someone else from TV, the cartoon witch on bugs bunny who leaves hair pins behind her where ever she goes, Crap. I don’t want to be Witchy Poo.

Back to this “self love” thing. That’s a little deep for a Friday afternoon at the mall, but let’s face it. It’s hard for moms to put themselves first. There are so many other people tugging on our elbows, demanding something urgent. We forget to put ourselves on our own “to do” list.

I didn’t tell my hair dresser this, but I DID do something completely for myself that day. I put the kids in daycare and wrote for five hours straight. The house was a mess, the refrigerator was empty, the clothes needed folding, but I wrote and wrote and wrote.

That’s more important to me than my looks. On the other hand, I could really use a bottle of Preference by Loreal. I’m worth it!