Shades of Gray (part 7)

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Shades of Gray - Part 6

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15 Shades of Gray - part 5

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Shades of Gray (part 4) and Tiny Feet

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Shades of Gray - part 3

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It's time to face the music.  Or the mirror.  Or the camera.  Or the facts of life, as I've never known them at this point in my life.

My fairly thick, wavy hair that I've always loved...is shedding its coat.  It's L'Oreal 5AR coat.

I have to admit, it's a bit painful.  Not physically, but emotionally.  A stranger is growing out of my head.

Here's a glimpse from the back.   

My daughter made me flip upside down and show the underbelly of the stranger.

I have to admit, I winced.  It just doesn't look like me.

But, really... it is.  This is me, today, right now with silver strands sprouting from my crown.  I'm going to call them Wisdom Highlights.

I read that somewhere, and I like it.  I'm sure I've gained some wisdom in life (I'll try to scrape that together for a later, I suspect brief, post), and I've certainly had many highlights in my life - joyous moments like the birth of my children, and savoring Godiva truffles.  So, these silver highlights seem to be appropriate.  I've earned them.  And I've won them.  They ought to be celebrated.

Right?  Right?!  I can't hear you!

OK, it's going to be a journey.  And there is probably going to be some gnashing of teeth.  Because Wisdom Highlights are frowned upon these days.  At least on women.  Men seem to walk around with them just fine.  What is wrong with this picture?!?!

Here's how I feel about the whole thing.

I'd rather just not look.

But, I'm going to put on my big girl panties and deal with it.  It's just hair.  It's not my heart, or my mind, or my spirit.  It's not who I am.  I don't think.  ARGH!

My girl, who has beautiful auburn hair, has a birthmark near her forehead, and out of the birthmark, gray hair grows.  It's fascinating.

She's excited to have some gray hairs.  She's only a young 30-ish woman, but she has a few grays sprouting further back as well.  She's proud of them and is my biggest supporter in me giving up the bottle.  She's a spring chicken, what does she know?  ARGH!

OK, I'm calm.  I'll redirect my mind.

I've joined Twitter!  See the link at the top of my blog, to the left.  If you're a Twitter-er, let's connect.  I've only posted a few toots, I mean twits, or chirps, or whatever, but it's kind of fun.  It keeps my mind off my Wisdom Highlights.

I also added a Pinterest widget to the blog about midline on the right.  You can see my recent pins and other whatnots.  I have boards on writing, upcycling, holidays, caretaking, and words of humor/wisdom.  I have to say, Pinterest is my favorite form of social media.  It keeps my mind off my Wisdom Highlights.

I need a Godiva truffle.

Shades of Gray - Part 2
Shades of Gray - Part 1

 

15 Shades of Gray - part 2

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Eek.  I'm having some withdrawal symptoms this week.  I'm giving up the bottle.  L'Oreal #5AR.

I'm talking to women everywhere for support.

I got new glasses this week and spoke to the woman who helped me about her beautiful white hair.

Her name is Terri.  She used to dye her hair, until a friend got cancer.  "That scared me away from it," she told me.   "She had dyed her hair for years.  The argument is still out about what all those chemicals might be doing to the brain, but I just decided, it wasn't worth it."   To her surprise, Terri discovered she loved her natural color.

"That's the color I want," I told her.

Then, there's my friend, Cindy.

She has a hint of grays appearing on the sides and sprinkles throughout.  She could not care less about her hair color.  "This is what God gave me," she grins.

Then there's Theresa, the wonderful woman who works at my parents' ALF.

She's Italian.  Has snowy white hair and a lovely accent.  I want both of those things.

This week, I approached women (some I know, some I don't) about this hair color thing.  I told them I'm writing about this ritual we women have of painting our heads, and that I want to stop doing it.   I asked for their thoughts on the subject.

At first, they kind of looked around to see who was listening.  They stepped closer and spoke softly.  The topic of hair coloring is a sensitive, private, almost ceremonial practice and we all feel protective about its secrets.

But, then, they shared from the heart.

"I'd like to quit dyeing my hair, too," one woman said.
"I don't think my husband would want me to," said another.
A third one said, "When I started going gray, people told me, 'you need to dye your hair.  It looks awful'."

Good grief.  Are we under pressure to maintain the illusion of no-grays-here, or what?

No one ever remarked on my incoming grays.  I spotted them first and immediately thought, Oh my, we can't have this.  My mother never dyed her hair, so I don't know where the repugnance came from.  Somehow, somewhere, I just came to know that gray hair was not wanted.  I'm trying to get to the bottom of this.

This morning, I tried to get a picture of my roots and the new growth that is showing.  I have to admit, I'm not crazy about it.  

I think some of the problem is I don't like the color gray in general.  I don't own anything gray because it's not on my color wheel.  It always looks dull to me - flat, boring, dirty.  It's just not a color I relate to.  That's why I want white, angel hair.  Like Theresa's.  Like my Irish maternal grandmother had.

In reality, my Cherokee blood is going to override the Irish in me, and I suspect I'm going to have battleship gray hair.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

 

FIFTEEN SHADES OF GRAY (part 1)

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I've been thinking about something for about six months - a decision that, on the surface, seems easy to make.  However, because of society's standards....I've wavered.

On some days, I'm sure I want to make this change.  On other days, it seems...well, unacceptable.  Or, at least unwise.  I mentioned to a friend the other day what I was considering, and she immediately shook her head.  "Oh, no, you don't want to do that.  You won't like it, I promise you, you won't like it."

Hmmm.  I mentioned it to another friend, who said, "Why do you want to do that?  Oh God, no."

A third friend said this:  "Oh, gosh, I couldn't do it.  I don't know if I'll ever do it."

These reactions surprised me.  I assumed friends would be more encouraging.  I hate to think I might have to walk this journey alone.

When I tell you what I'm considering doing, you might laugh.  Or, say, Oh, who cares what others think?  Or, say, Oh God, no, why do you want to do that?

I'm going to stop coloring my hair.

What is your first reaction upon reading that?  (I really want to know.  Please leave your letter choice in the comment box.)

a.  Are you nuts?
b.  You're going to look 10 years older.  ACK!
c.  Oh my goodness.  Well, it's your hair.
d.  People are going to treat you differently.  You'll regret it.
e.  I can't imagine such a thing.  Let's don't talk about it anymore.
f.  There, there now.  You're clearly out of you mind.  Here, have some chocolate.
g.  Good for you!

Hmmm.

To me, my reasons for giving up this ritual seem reasonable.

1.  I'm tired of it.  I've been doing it for 12 years.
2.  I'd like to put the money to other things.
3.  What's wrong with looking my age?  I don't even know what I've really looked like the past 12 years.
4.  I'd like to be free of presenting a colored version of myself.
5.  I think I've reconciled that I'll look older.  Older than what?  My fake hair color?
6.  I'd like to encourage other women to think about ditching the dye job too.  When did we come to believe we had to look younger?  Men don't do this (some do, but not most.)
7.  My hair dresser told me we still don't know the long-term effects of repeatedly painting chemicals onto our scalps.  What if, someday, we learn that fat cells, or wrinkles come from hair dye?  The ultimate irony.

Anyhoo...this is what I'm thinking about.  I want to try letting my natural hair color - whatever it is (it might be purple for all I know) - grow in unpainted. And because I want input about this sensitive issue, I'm going to write about it here.  Even if, six months from now, I run, screaming, into CVS for a box of L'Oreal #5AR.  It might be just be too horrific.

But, I want to see.  I think.  I want to be able to look into the mirror and just say, hello, you.  This is what 57 looks like. 

 Will you join me on this journey of self-discovery?   I might need your help.

PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
PART 5
PART 6
PART 7