I’m not grey… I glitter
I’ve been every colour from platinum to black.
But, this is me.
This is the real me.
The most authentic version of myself. And I LOVE it.
It’s glitter… not grey. That’s what my Nanna used to say.
Nanna, I’m SO happy with my glitter.
I’m not a patient person. Hats off to the women who can laboriously grow out their glitter. I didn’t actually realise how much glitter I had until I went brunette again. About one week after my hair was cut and coloured, I noticed the glitter coming through.
I’ve been working hard at being more authentic. Of accepting all of my feelings as legitimate – allowing sadness and grief as much welcome I would give happiness and joy. I’ve been working hard at letting those in my world know when I’m not coping so well and when I need help, and when I need rest.
I felt a deep desire to be nakedly me – not really naked, because no one really wants to see that.
So, I sat myself down at my hair dresser and asked for a buzz cut – get rid of everything that wasn’t genuinely me.
I feel free.
I was talking to my sister, trying to explain exactly how I was feeling about my new glittery self. And I said I felt a camouflaged.
But that’s not the right word, and I think it’s kind of why a lot of us rage against glittery greys and keep dying our hair. Because we don’t want to disappear. We don’t want to become irrelevant. We want to stay visible.
Greyer women, older women in our culture are in fact invisible a lot of the time. That is a whole other story. I’ll pick the thread at that another day.
But for today, the word I was really looking for was ‘comfortable’. I no longer feel competition at appearing a decade younger than I am. I feel comfortable being exactly as I am.
I don’t intend to go quietly into invisibility. I’ll rage against that. But, for now, I am content and a little bit giddy with my glitter.
Thank you, mother nature, for this, my very last colour job.