I’ve mentioned on here before about starting to go grey. I’m 36 years old. I’m kind of genuinely surprised I’m still alive. I’ve made bad choices and mistakes and like… yeah, it’s been questionable at times if/ how successfully I was gonna get on. But, I’m still here. And I’m going grey. And it feels like an accomplishment.
I’m not going full on grey. I literally have a lil cluster of maybe 30 strands of white hair coming up over my left eye. I refer to it as my Bride of Frankenstein streak and I genuinely love it. I think our society is finally shifting away from grey shaming. People, more specially women, are starting to feel some more acceptance for natural “aging” hair. For a minute “silver” hair was trendy. Note, it was never called grey, it was called silver, but it was like… the same color so…
I use to dye my hair. Bright black was my shade. It was this gorgeous color that shifted in sunlight from black to blue, like a ravens feather. It was stunning. And sometimes I miss it. How it made my pale skin seem even paler, how good bright colored eye shadow looked. It was a whole mood. But it was work, it was upkeep and maintenance and it was somewhat damaging to my hair. So, I’ve been rocking my natural color for several years now and with that, comes grey.
I think there is a major difference between accepting something and embracing something. I embrace the grey. My feelings may change as I get older and the grey spreads more. I hope not, though. I hope I always wear it with pride. I hope I never feel pressure to conceal my age, or downplay how much life I’ve been able to live. I hope the beauty/physical side of aging is never something I merely tolerate, but that I consciously decide to celebrate.