Should you go gray naturally or dye your hair as you age?

Go gray

10 of 73

by Peg Hassett

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Hi Ho Silver - To Stay!
I'm at a time in my life where I am on this "becoming authentic" kick. I realize that I had fallen into the trappings of trying to make myself into something or someone other than who God Himself created me to be. And while I've found peace with myself and have found an easiness in my own skin, I find that it's not that easy for other people to "play" along.

Now I have always been an honest, forthright person. More brutally honest than some of my friends would like me to be sometimes. So that part of becoming authentic has been fairly easy. What hasn't been quite as easy of a transition is the outward attempts. For instance, gray hair. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I have had gray hair since I was 15 years old. Talk about prematurely gray! So I did what any 15 year old would do - I begged my mom to let me dye my hair. After watching my eyelashes bat 1000 blinks a minute and the slight tilt of my head in full blown pleading position, she finally agreed that I could. On one condition... that I learn to do it myself. Paying for a home coloring kit was one thing. Popping for a salon visit was out of the question.

With typical teenage know-it-all enthusiasm, I bought the first of many (ok VERY many) hair coloring kits. I came home and read the directions word for word like I was studying for a final of epic proportions. I lathered my head up well with this secret potion and set the clock for the alotted time. After rinsing it out and sitting under the boufant plastic thingy known as a hair dryer in those days, I swear I saw beams of light bouncing off of my locks. I was woman! It was during this same time period that I also became a slave to the paint that one put's on one's face to supposedly look better to themselves and an outside world. Through the years, I have become very adept at both. Several years ago though, I decided to cut back on the makeup routine. Partly because of cost and partly because I didn't see it really helping anymore. At first some of my friends questioned it but soon they saw that my skin was clearer and I no longer had to worry about makeup puddling on my blouses or worse yet, on somebody else's. And quite frankly, I enjoy the freedom of letting my skin breathe as God intended it to. Oh I still wear lipstick and mascara occasionaly but for most days I go au naturel. But when it came to my hair, well that was a different story.

A few wrinkles are one thing but gray hair, well conventional wisdom says that gray hair just makes you look old. I never could understand the reasoning behind it. On gents, they think it looks distinguished, even when the pesky little things are sprouting at 35. On women, well, let's just say that they think she's let herself go. Talk about double standards. So being one to buck conventional wisdom a time or two, I've decided to let my hair go gray. In other words, Clairol's stock may be in imminent danger of a downturn. What I didn't realize was how traumatic it can be, letting your hair go gray naturally. Oh, not for me, I'm really fine with it - I am, happily, a grandma after all - but for all the people around me. Have you ever noticed how when you have lint on your shoulder, that everyone kinda brushes their own shoulders to make sure they don't? They never say a word to you, but after the first couple of people, you find yourself heading to the nearest mirror where aha!, you find the culprit sitting there squarely on your shoulder. Or if you have an unusual or intriguing body part (or parts as the case may be), how their eye naturally gravitates towards it, be it consciously or not.

For instance, I have always been what you may call, well endowed in the mammary gland area. I have gotten used to eye contact being lowered by about a foot or so on several occasions during otherwise serious discussions. When I was pregnant with my son, many, many years ago, I remember people teasing me about not being able to see my feet. I would just laugh and tell them that I hadn't been able to see my feet from a standing position since somewhere around puberty. I think you get the point. These days, while I was interacting with different people, I would notice them running their fingers through their hair or glancing towards the top of my head. It doesn't take a degree in rocket science to figure out my roots are showing signs of needing way more than just a little touch up. Today was proof. Nobody said a word. Some women just nodded that "knowing" nod and I swear a couple of them thought of slipping me a ten dollar bill, thinking maybe I was just broke. Most of the guys just had that puzzled look on their faces, like they know something is different but for the life of them can't figure out what it is, knowing that whatever it is will be the subject of discussion from their wives on the way home.

I would venture to say that I'm beginning to resemble the neighborhood calico cat. Let me go on record here to say that I am not a calico cat and that I am not up for adoption. And no, you cannot inquire of Oliver to see if he agrees. I am just really trying to come to grips with who God has designed me to be and all that comes with that. I have no idea why I am (very) prematurely gray. I don't need to know. They say that gray hair shows signs of wisdom. If that be the case, look out Solomon! I'm not talking about just a few gray strands here or there. Nope, I'm going full out gray, bordering on white. Will it make me look older? Probably. Do I care? No, not really. Age is a matter of the mind anyway and not just a number. In my mind (and sometimes my actions), I am still a young 'un. Forever will be, no matter what the calendar says or my hair and face may reveal. God has plans for me.

Just as I have come to embrace the few extra minutes I have each day because I am not spending time trying to reproduce a Rembrandt painting on my face, I'm sure I will come to embrace not having to run to the store every 4-6 weeks and come home with whatever shade happened to catch my fancy that day. No more pondering whether I should buy the box listed as light brown or the one that says blonde. No more wondering whether I should feel daring and find one with a hint of red. Nope, gray is the color du jour for me. It will probably be several more months before the last of the bleached out blonde will be lopped off and sent to the local landfill. In the meantime, I'm eyeing that calico cat with a new appreciation and a kindred spirit of sorts. I'm a 'tweener. Not in age, but in hair. I can already feel the new growth is healthier than my hair has been in years. I'm sure my family will love the new "old" me just as much as the younger looking version. My friends may hide the fact that they know me for a while, but they'll eventually come around again.

After over 35 years, I guess it's time to embrace the color that God chose me to have so many years ago and just maybe somewhere in there, I'll find peace with the person too. Ok, so I'm a slow learner, but better late than never, right? So power to the gray haired people everywhere! Hmm, perhaps there is something to that "wisdom thing" after all. Hope you enjoy your journey to authenticism with as much fun and hope as I have. I'm entering into a new era, not clawing and fighting with every potion known to man, but embracing it and learning to go with the flow. So bear with me for a few months as my hair transitions and please, resist the urge to pat me on the head to make me purr or to offer me a cup of milk. As I ride into the sunset, I can hear a faint shout of Hi ho silver - away! and I'm not intimidated by it one bit. Perhaps I'll start my own shout - Hi ho silver - to stay! Be blessed.

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