It’s OK To Be Gray

I asked my husband to cut my hair a couple weeks ago. I didn’t care how much he chopped off. With my natural curls it’s pretty hard to mess up my hair. But with the fans at work there were a lot of dry, dead split ends and I needed them cut off. He obliged me.

And then he told me it’s time to dye my hair again. He wasn’t being mean. I’ve been dying the grays for a good ten years now.

I almost bought a box of color the last time I went shopping. I usually buy a color slightly lighter and more red than my natural brown color.

However I decided to skip it this trip. Maybe I’ll skip it next trip too. It’s not a lot of gray shining through at the part of my hair. It doesn’t stand out like a sore thumb.

But I’m 47 years old. I’m not old but I’m not young anymore either. I’m at an age where it’s OK to be gray.

Those gray hairs stand for experience. They show that I’ve lived. The grays that peek through demand respect, for my age if not for anything else. Gray hairs speak for me.

Women try so hard to hold onto youth and beauty. In today’s society women are treated like objects of possession rather than people. And we allow it when we comply with their expectations.

Over the years we spend hundreds of dollars on our masks. Hair dye. Nail polish. Facials. Manicures. Eyeliner. Lip color. Eye shadows. Mascara.

Daytime beauty; nighttime hag? Walking mannequins? Jekyll and Hyde?

Why are appearances so important? Why do we try so hard to hide who we really are? Can’t we be proud of who we are, who we have grown into?

Because, every flaw, every blemish makes us unique. Is it really love if people only love us for how we look? Shouldn’t we be more proud of who we are on the inside than on the outside?

I’m pretty confident my loved ones don’t care about my gray hair. Maybe I won’t even dye it again.
It’s OK to be gray!