Last week I went to the doctor for a work physical. That in itself is a whole story, but today we are going to discuss something else. Our society's obsession with coloring hair.
I have written a few blogs about this in the past, but I can't find the links at the moment. I have almost 500 posts now, so if the title doesn't give the topic away, forget it. ;)
When I first started writing about this subject I still colored my hair, but knew a few women my age who decided to stop and just let nature take it's course. My opinion at the time was (and still is) to each his own.
A few years later I decided to stop coloring mine, because it is a pain in the rear end. I'm not paying someone fifty dollars to do it every six weeks when the color in the box at the store lasts just as long. I'm not wasting an hour of my life every six weeks either. So there you go. I was also curious as to what my "real" hair color looked like after all this time. Although the shade I colored it was pretty close to the shade I was born with.
My Mom was salt and pepper for most of my memories of her, and I remember things back to about the age of three. She dyed her hair when Bumpy (David) went to Kindergarten, and it turned an awful orange color. Her children asked her not to do that again, and she didn't. It just wasn't Ruthie. She would have been about the age I am now, and I suppose with all those young Mom's running around, you would rather look like a Mom than a Grandma. If that's the case, then more power to you. Whatever works for you, works for you.
It doesn't work for me.
That brings us to last Tuesday morning at the Superior Clinic. I was registering, and the gal needed my drivers license. She took a look at it and said "Wow, your hair is so much darker in this picture." "That's because I stopped coloring it." I innocently replied. There were three ladies who were all my age or older working in reception, and, as if on cue, their necks all snapped around to immediately gawk at me.
I just gave them my best Ruthie smile. Step right up to see the freak of nature ladies........ Because I am me I almost told them to take a picture, and then chalked it up to their own insecurities and grinned a little wider.
Yes, my hair is gray. Well technically it's brown, red, blond, and gray. Mostly gray now, and incidentally the longest it has ever been. We don't have to have a conversation about it every time I see you. I am aware that it is gray, it's my choice. You also don't have to explain to me why you color yours. That's your choice, and I didn't even ask you anyway. To each his own. If I didn't like the way my hair looked I would do something about it.
Many of the girls I graduated with are Grandma's now, so I am of the age. I did have someone ask me if "those are your Grandchildren", and I was offended. Not because they were assuming it because of my hair color, but because the children in question are straight from hell. They aren't my Goovers, or my preschoolers. No kids of "mine" would behave that way in public. I was watching them for their Mother for a few minutes.
If the spirit moves me I shall cut all my hair and dye what's left of it pink. Because I can. That's what is great about being a woman in this day and age. We have much more important things to worry about, at least I do. I drove by an old church for sale today, and thought maybe I should buy it and start my own religion. I probably laughed my grey head off for a mile after that. ;) I will call it "Our Lady of Gray".
I have written a few blogs about this in the past, but I can't find the links at the moment. I have almost 500 posts now, so if the title doesn't give the topic away, forget it. ;)
When I first started writing about this subject I still colored my hair, but knew a few women my age who decided to stop and just let nature take it's course. My opinion at the time was (and still is) to each his own.
A few years later I decided to stop coloring mine, because it is a pain in the rear end. I'm not paying someone fifty dollars to do it every six weeks when the color in the box at the store lasts just as long. I'm not wasting an hour of my life every six weeks either. So there you go. I was also curious as to what my "real" hair color looked like after all this time. Although the shade I colored it was pretty close to the shade I was born with.
My Mom was salt and pepper for most of my memories of her, and I remember things back to about the age of three. She dyed her hair when Bumpy (David) went to Kindergarten, and it turned an awful orange color. Her children asked her not to do that again, and she didn't. It just wasn't Ruthie. She would have been about the age I am now, and I suppose with all those young Mom's running around, you would rather look like a Mom than a Grandma. If that's the case, then more power to you. Whatever works for you, works for you.
It doesn't work for me.
That brings us to last Tuesday morning at the Superior Clinic. I was registering, and the gal needed my drivers license. She took a look at it and said "Wow, your hair is so much darker in this picture." "That's because I stopped coloring it." I innocently replied. There were three ladies who were all my age or older working in reception, and, as if on cue, their necks all snapped around to immediately gawk at me.
I just gave them my best Ruthie smile. Step right up to see the freak of nature ladies........ Because I am me I almost told them to take a picture, and then chalked it up to their own insecurities and grinned a little wider.
Yes, my hair is gray. Well technically it's brown, red, blond, and gray. Mostly gray now, and incidentally the longest it has ever been. We don't have to have a conversation about it every time I see you. I am aware that it is gray, it's my choice. You also don't have to explain to me why you color yours. That's your choice, and I didn't even ask you anyway. To each his own. If I didn't like the way my hair looked I would do something about it.
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| Sledding fun with Jacob |
Many of the girls I graduated with are Grandma's now, so I am of the age. I did have someone ask me if "those are your Grandchildren", and I was offended. Not because they were assuming it because of my hair color, but because the children in question are straight from hell. They aren't my Goovers, or my preschoolers. No kids of "mine" would behave that way in public. I was watching them for their Mother for a few minutes.
If the spirit moves me I shall cut all my hair and dye what's left of it pink. Because I can. That's what is great about being a woman in this day and age. We have much more important things to worry about, at least I do. I drove by an old church for sale today, and thought maybe I should buy it and start my own religion. I probably laughed my grey head off for a mile after that. ;) I will call it "Our Lady of Gray".
