I am all or nothing. Go hard or go home is my usual way of operation. So, in typical fashion yesterday I had most of my hair shaved off.
I have been contemplating grey hair for some time now. Slowly sorting out how I felt about it. Boring people senseless with my obsessive talk on the subject and secretly (I hope) stalking women in the streets, cafes, theatre who have grey hair.
The thing is, in the end the grey hair was owning me. It was on my mind all the time. Either the fact I needed to have it coloured to cover it, or that is wasn’t showing, and when would it show again. lather, rinse, repeat.
I had been colouring my hair with a semi-permanant for about six months. Before then, it was permanent colour. The semi faded out more than screamed regrowth each six weeks, and was part of my overall plan at getting closer to having grey hair.
Over summer I let it go longer than the allotted six weeks, so most of my hair was back to my natural colour. For the first time in many, many, many years.
Last week I booked a hair appointment. For just a cut.
I know everyone is different, and the choice is theirs alone to make, but for me the time had come to let my grey hair be just that.
Having hair clipped meant there was no hiding the grey. Instead of longer side hair over the grey underneath there is just grey.
All or nothing.
Do you know how hard it is to take a selfie on a phone of an undercut?
It also means I have a hair cut I have long wanted. I’m telling you now, it feels fantastic. All that nothingness of clippers set at two.
Anyway. It is done. I have grey hair. Well, I have for a long time, now I am just showing it on purpose, not just when there is regrowth.
Someone described it as salt and pepper. I think I can just about live with that. I am 41. I have adolescent children, and now? Now I own my grey hair. It doesn’t own me.