I just want to say this. I need to say it. It’s something that’s been on my mind for quite some time and it’s time that I was honest about this. Some people may take offense. If they do, I hope that they can look beyond their narrow mindedness and see the truth behind what I am saying.
I love my grey hair. I think it’s beautiful. When I look in the mirror and I see the grey streaking through my dark curls, I think it’s lovely. The contrast is wonderful. The difference between feel is fun. The grey hairs are wiry and tough, my still dark hairs are soft and fine.
I had a hair stylist ask me if premature greying ran in my family. I was shocked by her question, first for its audacity and second for its obvious attempt at profiting from my shattered self esteem. I’ve not returned to her since. I actually haven’t gotten a hair cut since then because I do not trust my hair to someone that thinks the beauty of my grey hairs are something to ashamed of and hidden from the world. To be ashamed of them is to be ashamed of the life I’ve lived. Ashamed of giving birth to the world’s most amazing child. Ashamed of marrying the world’s most wonderful man (sorry world – I don’t share). Ashamed of walking the path that has led to me being me.
I know that many out there do not like their grey and I hope that they are able to find some solace in their bottles of hair dye but for me, the beauty of it and the life it represents is solace enough.