I’ve decided to go gray.
- Accept this turn of life.
- Stop hiding it.
- Stop coloring my hair.
Even stop reveling in looking 10 years younger than I am.
Who the hell cares.
I want to look my age. I’m okay with turning 52 this month. I earned every wrinkle and laugh line on my face. I earned those “crow’s feet” around my eyes. Crow’s feet are the result of smiling so much in this lifetime. They’re a sign of a life lived well! We should be proud of crow’s feet!
I am a good person. This, I know. I didn’t always. Even when the world says good things about you, those words don’t always seep into your soul. You doubt and hum and hedge and think maybe the world is too kind and a little confused.
The world. Too kind. Yes, this is the life I live. I am incredibly lucky.
My friends who know me well would stop me now and say, “Lis, it’s not that you have been lucky. You have worked ridiculously hard and you’ve chosen to push yourself to the bright side again and again – and to invite everyone to come with you. That’s not the same as luck, not at all.”
Or they might just kick my chair and say, “Seriously. Shut up.” Because sometimes I need that, too.
But it really comes down to this: I’m really, fundamentally good with who I am, and that includes the way I look.
My friend Jane recently gave up the blonde ghost. Her hair went from blonde to gray quickly. It was shocking at first but now she looks free and more stunningly beautiful than ever.
Imagine what American society would look like if suddenly tomorrow every woman showed her gray or silver instead of hiding it. Maybe it would seem like a storm of wisdom revealing itself right in our midst. Talk about powerful and free. It won’t happen, but it’s nice to think about, isn’t it?
How about you? What will you do when the gray comes for you?
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