That is what I keep asking myself lately. I have not yet had to use any permanent color to hide the truth... highlighting has kept the few stray grays camouflaged, or so I thought, until my girlfriend plucked a gray hair out of my head the other night while we were talking. I think the jig is up.
I am conflicted about what comes next. A couple of years ago I tested the waters with my friends casually mentioning that I was thinking I would just let the grays arrive as they may without trying to hide them. Their reaction was swift and firm--NO!
I wondered this morning is coloring gray, to some degree, covering up the truth? The years tick by and time marches on but I know very few women who are gray. A childhood friend who I "see" on Facebook took the plunge a couple of years ago. I look at her pictures and I see total truth and freedom. Other people may look at her pictures and think she gave up and threw in the towel.
I am noticing my few strands multiplying as the days go by. It is especially noticeable in the car when I look in the rear view mirror. I see what used to be a lone gray soldier has decided he needed back up and the troops are starting to arrive.
Covering gray reminds me of the Whack-A-Mole game. At first things are somewhat calm...it is easy to whack that mole back in the hole before another one pops up but before you know it you are whacking everywhere like crazy, anxiety coursing through you and it is almost impossible to keep up...kind of like aging. At first a stray gray hair, then a wrinkle, then more grays and more wrinkles popping up like the moles in the game...and what does winning at Whack-A-Mole get you? A bunch of tickets that will never be enough for the huge teddy bear...just maybe a few stale tootsie rolls.
What I am beginning to realize is it isn't hard to age, but it can be hard to see yourself age. My grandmother would tell me she felt 18 inside until she looked in the mirror. I look at these pictures of my grandmothers two of them 80 and one 99 and I can see they too were a camp divided.
I think of my friends who never got the privilege to age and I wonder what they would have done.
So, as I head off to the salon, I find myself in another gray area. Literally.
What I am beginning to realize is it isn't hard to age, but it can be hard to see yourself age. My grandmother would tell me she felt 18 inside until she looked in the mirror. I look at these pictures of my grandmothers two of them 80 and one 99 and I can see they too were a camp divided.
I think of my friends who never got the privilege to age and I wonder what they would have done.
So, as I head off to the salon, I find myself in another gray area. Literally.
Change is often hard to swallow..If we were born gray who would associate. I just think we get used to 50 to sixty years of something (not gray) and suddenly , as your analogy goes, we feel infiltrated by not just gray but its association with old age. Im getting close to throwing in the towel, saving some money, filling my time without "processing" and seeing what maybe a new me looks like..but then that scary change thing creeps in and says...are you sure?
ReplyDeleteI love the "filling my time without processing" line! And the change thing is scary...but exciting too :) Love you sister friend!
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