Silver

I am having trouble these days keeping up with my gray roots. Yes, I said it. I have gray roots. They’re not pretty and the worst part is that my hair is currently in a horrible growing out stage and so I tend to wear it in a ponytail most of the time, which emphasizes the damned gray around my temples. Yuck!

While at work one afternoon recently, we had a visitor who was dropping something off. She’s a woman who is definitely older than I am but still active and on the go. She has embraced the joy of not having to color her hair. She asked me if I was new here at work.

I told her no, that I’ve been here for fourteen years and that we’ve met on several occasions.

She asked me if my hair was a different color than it has been in the past. I said that it is probably lighter than ever because I’m trying to blend it with the gray.

She grabbed my hand and said, “No, not gray, call it silver. Silver is beautiful.”

Uh, okay.

Except, no. Okay, so this woman’s hair is lovely, it’s shiny and looks healthy and sure, it could be called silver.

Mine? Is not shiny, it’s not currently healthy because I’m probably over-processing it in an effort to find a product that actually ‘fixes’ the gray. It’s at a horrible length with obnoxious layers that lay weird and frizz most of the time. I hate it. I hate the gray and I hate the current cut. I won’t call it a style because there is no style too it, just ickiness.

I love that this woman is all about embracing the changes that come with age. She looks wonderful with her silver hair.

I do not feel I’d look lovely if I gave up the fight and accepted the gray. I’m not ready to take that step. Not yet. Maybe not ever.