As part of my continuing move to simplify life, I’m going grey.
To be absolutely accurate, I went grey a while ago. I don’t know exactly when, though. Seriously. I have been dyeing my hair since I was fifteen years old. I know it was mousey coloured back then. I remember clearly it was nondescript. That was the one thing it excelled at.
Fine hair – but a lot of it – in a nothing colour with no body at all. It’s straight. It doesn’t bounce. It’s only wavy past a certain length – until then it doesn’t kink at all.
Now, I prize objectivity. These are the things that I do like about my hair. It’s soft and shiny. It doesn’t really need blow drying since it just falls straight like a sheet. It’s also low maintenance…
Except for the colour. The colour… well, let’s just say that colouring your hair is a labour of love. You start full of excitement. You chop and change. You find your feet. You get into your stride and you get the knack down pat. You’re loyal. You get bored. You repeat the process. Ad infinitum. Well, in the case of lots of people, ad infinitum.
But infinitum is a long time and I’ve fallen out of love with effort. Or, rather, I’ve found other things I want to make an effort with – work, family, friends, networking, God, even my nails merit my affection more than my hair colour.
Anyway, I’m done with all the fuss. Goodbye caring. I’m going grey and I’m going to do it at my own sweet pace. Which is immediately – because I have the patience of a terrible two year old.
I have written about my love of low maintenance in the past and I have managed to get my life to a point where I don’t make a lot of fuss. It’s not just the way I look but the way I live as well. I used to flap about things that really don’t matter but I have started not to now.
There’s really no point. Why polish the sides of your furniture every time when the dust only settles on top? Sure, go the extra mile occasionally but save your time and effort for something that really matters to you if you can.
I want to be a better parent. I want to earn more money to support my children. I want to be able to do the work I really love. All those things are more challenging, more fun and more rewarding than the cosmetic things that we all do every single day.
So goodbye subscribing to cultural expectations of beauty for 40 somethings. In fact, go screw yourself. I don’t need to look a certain way for any particular reason. I just need to look like me – and I’m a smart, interesting woman who does what she wants with her appearance.
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