I’ve finally made the decision to grow out my silvery gray and black hair. I’ve been preparing myself for this change a year now, researching all the possibilities of how to do this as gracefully as possible. While finding articles on different ways to go about it, I dug a bit deeper, seeking words from other women as to WHY they made this choice, how they did it and their attitudes about aging and their thoughts about simply being considered “old”.
Lots of AHA moments have hampered my sleep this past week. I’ve realized that I’m still way too worried about what other’s think of me or how they perceive me. I’m ready to break this old habit. Ten years ago, I went through this same process, and was happy with my hair and the freedom it gave me, both financially and time spent doing what I loved doing instead of spending hours in a salon every two weeks. Then, my husband ended up in the hospital. While discussing tests with the young doctor assigned to his case, I was asked a few odd questions. The doctor then turned to my husband (who is a year older than me) and told him that his “mother” (yup, he was referring to ME!) could be present during one of the tests. I freaked out. I wasn’t ready to be seen as THAT much older than my husband. It still took me six months to make the decision to color my hair again. More than the money and time I would spend, I felt inauthentic coloring my hair again. That bothered me more than anything else.
My attitude toward this transition means everything. I’m aging, and I’m ok with that. Looking OLD, I found, I’m not so ok with lol! Then I realized that being OLD is a frame of mind. There are some people who are born old, not the wise kind of old, but the type of old that is wearing, boring, dreary and stunting. I loooove life, love MY life, and am the type of person who wants to celebrate and grow and create. I choose other people to share this life I have, in a positive, supportive and joyful way. So, I don’t consider myself to be old. Aging, yes, but not OLD. See the difference?
I’m very lucky to have a partner who also supports me on this journey. He actually suggested that we buy some fun wigs then shave my head so my lovely gray could all grow out at one time! We’ve since decided not to throw a shave-Mom’s-head party, however! He and I first met when I was seventeen, and got to know each other when we re-met two years later. We got married a week after I turned twenty-one, and he turned twenty-two a week after that. He’s seen me age all this time, and tells me I’m more beautiful now than I was then. That’s love for ya lol!
I think it’s time I stop trying so damn hard to look attractive to anyone but myself and yes, my husband. If my hair color stops another human being from wanting to have a simple conversation with me, then so be it. I’m good with that.