A couple weeks ago, I was at my brother’s house for a Memorial Day cookout. Since the majority of us are now fully vaccinated, I didn’t have any qualms about hugging my family again. Even my sister-in-law who I usually leave alone because she hates hugs got stuck with an embrace from me.
Yeah, I made it awkward.
While I was sipping my pineapple sangria so I could fit in with everyone (I come from a drinking fam) my aunt commented on how gray my hair was getting. I haven’t dyed it since May of 2015 due to thinning hair and the fact that I don’t want to slather a bunch of chemicals on my head anymore.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m following in mom’s footsteps.”
She had the most beautiful salt and pepper hair. My mom loved to change the color (she pulled off blonde quite well) but as she approached her 60’s, she decided to go natural. I was just past 40 when I made the decision. I am at peace with my silver wisdom highlights.
Is it silly to say that I am crazy proud of them?
I don’t give a shit if it makes me look older than I rightfully should. I have nobody to impress. I’ve watched them materialize like crazy as time has marched on and I expect that at some point, I’ll be more gray than brown. The hairs that are still transitioning are a golden color, which makes me a three tone headed gal.
My hair has gotten long and I’ve been thinking about getting it cut shorter. But every time I go for a haircut, the person doing it says, well gee, your hair is so thin!
Really? No way!
What can I say? It irks me.
I wear it in a bun or high pony tale. Occasionally, I’ll leave it down. It only looks decent right after I wash it. By the second day, It begins to look lanky and greasy. Since I’m lucky to take a real shower twice a week (fuck off depression and fibro) it’s an issue that I really need to have a good think about.
To chop it or not to chop it. Hmm.
Maybe I’ll just flip a coin.
(My dad loved Crystal Gale and the title of this post are the lyrics of one of her songs, from way back in the day.)