Posted in Blog, Life as I know it

50 shades of sparkling grey

  

 It’s been months since I dyed my hair. Before that, I grappled with stopping. I’d stand there with boxed dye in hand, wondering if I should buy it. My hair was fried. I was tired of spending money on it. I wasn’t even sure if my hair looked better when I did color it. However, I just couldn’t bring myself to let go of the color. After all, grey hair means you’re old. I’m in my 30s. I wasn’t ready to grow old. I mean, what would people think if my hair was partially grey? Would they whisper about me behind my back? Would they think I was letting myself go? Would they think I had just stopped trying now that I was an old married woman?

Inevitably, I’d end up buying the dye. And for 6 weeks I’d go grey-free. And then the roots would start showing and I’d be back at square one, wondering if it was even worth it to dye my hair again. 

But then, one day, I stopped. I stopped seeing the point. I stopped caring what people thought. I stopped trying to make my hair something it wasn’t. I stopped defining my beauty by color.

I stopped dying my hair. 

At first, it was scary. In fact, it was scary for months. I had to keep reminding myself that no one cared about my hair. Soon, I realized it was true. NO ONE CARED ABOUT MY HAIR. I have yet to receive strange looks. At worst, both my mom and sister said I could always dye it again if I changed my mind – because they not-so-secretly hoped I’d change my mind. And it’s true, I could dye it if I change my mind. But something funny happened as the color grew out. 

I started to like the grey. 

I think this has surprised me most of all. I think the grey is beautiful. Right now, I have a long ways to go before the dye grows out. But the grey is mostly in one section of my hair, creating a silver strand that entwines itself in my brown locks. It adds dimension to my braid. It peeks through when I wear it down. It highlights a portion when I pull it back. It makes my hair so much more interesting. 

Plus – and this is the old lady in me talking – I earned those greys. It’s every ounce of life I’ve struggled through, every hurdle I’ve overcome, every kid I’ve raised, every heartache I’ve endured, every worry I’ve lost sleep over… It’s every part of my life that I’ve questioned, and it’s a reminder that I’ve survived. 

So, I’m growing out the greys. And I feel beautiful. šŸ’•

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Author:

Author, writer, blogger. Follow me at crissilangwell.com.

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