Grey space
There are two very clear signs that I’m anxious or antsy about something: I have trouble meditating, and can’t read a book for longer than 10 minutes.
This has been my pattern for the last couple of weeks. Granted, my husband has also been traveling for work for 11 days. In that timespan, I weathered a nasty cold, hosted a sleepover for four 12-year olds, have had to take one kid to the doctor three times, schlepped both kids to school every morning, and adventured all over Atlanta while my best friend and her fam came to visit. That last part was awesome, but I’m still exhausted.
I have also been inching closer to a very big, yet ultimately inconsequential, event in my life:
Going grey.
As in, not just letting my roots grow out, which I already started doing back in October. But going grey, as in, full-head transformation. Arriving at the salon as mostly a brunette (except for about 3 inches near my scalp), and leaving six hours later with some kind of silvery dimensional mane that hopefully won’t age me 10 years.
Intellectually I know that it’s just hair. If I don’t like it, I can dye it back!
But the anxiety that this impending appointment is causing is real. I keep getting cold feet. And asking so many what ifs that I think I drove my best friend a little crazy this weekend.
Should I just let it keep growing naturally without intervention?
What if I spend all this money and then can’t handle how I look?
What if my husband doesn’t find me attractive anymore?
What if I my skin is too pale to pull it off?
What if I need to start wearing more makeup to balance things out?
This anxiety has led me down countless Instagram rabbit-holes of other women around my age who’ve either done the full-head transformation, or let their greys grow in naturally. They’re all proud of their hair. Rocking it like a badge of honor. Talking about how they don’t care if other people don’t understand, or even if they make snide remarks. They’re saying EFF-YOU to the system that says women can’t grow old gracefully!
That is all great for them.
But I don’t particularly want to say any of that, nor be viewed as trying to say any of that.
I am simply tired of my roots poking out every two weeks, and I want to be done with being a slave to buying cover-up at CVS to hold me over until my next hair appointment. That shit gets expensive.
I’m definitely anxious about what I’m going to look like, but I guess the other part of this whole thing is being anxious about what people are going to think. Will they look at me and wonder if I’m trying to make a statement? Will they not be sure how to react or respond the first time they see my new shade?
I don’t want attention from it. I don’t want praise for being “brave.” But I’m so nervous that I’m going to have to keep explaining myself, or defending my decision, or going into the whole “I’ve been going grey since my 20s, I got it from my dad’s side, yep I’ve been coloring it for decades, no I just got tired of it, mmhmm, yeah I know I’m still young” shpiel.
Will I regret being grey in all my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah photos next year? What will her friends say when they see me next week?
I wish none of that got to me, but it does. And so…
Instead of reading the three books I’ve started, or logging on to Jeff Warren’s Do Nothing Project for what I know would be an incredibly beneficial meditation sit, I am looking at more #greyfox #silversisters #greyandproud IG photos. Or shopping preemptively for new makeup at Sephora because who knows if I’ll need to change-up my beauty routine once I’m no longer brunette? They’re all just filler activities to make me feel like this big, impending milestone isn’t happening. But it is, because #genetics, regardless of whether I go through with the appointment on Saturday or not.
I am really hoping I can walk into my salon in a few days, sit down, and let whatever happens happen. My stylist is planning to video the entire thing, so I’ll have a record of it for posterity. If my hair comes out great (or greyte??) I promise to share some photos of it here.
If not…I’ll see you at CVS again in two weeks.