Sooooo… I recently stopped dyeing my hair. Just for a little context, I have been having my hair colored in some fashion since I was 14 years old, so it’s kinda a big deal. I could’ve said I recently decided to stop dyeing my hair, but that would imply that I had this amazing, self-affirming, I-yam-what-I-yam moment. And that didn’t happen. It was more inertia + cash flow issues (this is a useful euphemism I’ve adopted for not having enough dolla dolla bills) + a feeling this could be cool?
To be completely honest, I am blessed with cool graying hair — I have some nicely placed Cruella Deville white streaks around my face. There is some mousiness going on in the back, but I just don’t look back there too often, and I have excellent flattering lighting in my bathroom. It’s probably -10 years lighting.
Why am I telling you this? Because it really feels fantastic. I recommend it. I am surrounded by people spending a metric ton of money to make themselves look younger. It’s insane. And so, I am no longer playing that game. Thank you. Peace out.
But also, I no longer have to worry that something I wear or say or do makes me like I’m trying too hard to look young. With gray hair, it just looks cool, not like I’m trying to fake it.
I’m still trying to come to terms with some of my other bits (ahem, chin waddle). And zero judgment of those who choose to dye. God knows, I wandered down this path by accident, with every intention of starting up again when I could. But I did not expect it to make me feel more Unfuckwithable (thank you, Ash Ambirge). And I like that.
I mean, I’m not old. I’m not even 50 yet. But this feels like leaning into the future me, which, 23 years into marriage, with two grownish kids, starting a new business, allows me to feel a little more badass, a little more do-not-go-gentle-into-that-goodnight, a little less it’s-time-to-shop-for-longterm-care-insurance. Who knew that going gray would do that?
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