I’m not driving off a cliff with Punxatawney Phil, people. My hair and I are going au natural.
Do you know I’ve been coloring my hair since high school? Has it brought me the man of my dreams or made any of my dreams reality? No. It costs over $200 every 8 weeks to cut and color my hair at a salon in Bethesda. Are men, jobs, new friends flocking to me? Has the world gone vegan? Have we achieved world peace? No, no, and no.
Adrienne cuts my hair just the way I like it. The cut is what I’m happiest about, not the color of my hair. My hair is grey. It’s a color; it doesn’t define me. My actions and purpose in life define me. I’m tired of being made to feel less than ideally attractive if I let my natural hair color grow out. I’m as old as I feel, not as I look–and I look great. The only person who has to like it is me. I don’t care what other people think anymore.
OK, think I worked in all the cliches.
I’m going for long, wavy, grey locks. Like the twenty-somethings who are coloring their hair grey ’cause it’s “on trend.” Except mine’s real. Good grief. Does that make me “off-trend?” “Granny Hair,” Nylon magazine calls it. Ah, youth is wasted on the young. Anyhoo, I hope it’s silvery white like my mom’s. Inspiring photos below:
Yasmina Rossi in top three photographs; “Cydney, a breezy, beach-babe silver girl” of 54. 54! Granny hair…right.