Going grey. For many women, the first sighting of white hair in their tresses catches them unaware and causes dismay, if not a mounting dread of what is to come. The march of ageing. Steadfast. Relentless.
Many resort to dyeing their hair in an attempt to keep a youthful appearance. Or pulling out the white hair strands one by one. I remember my aunt Maria Luz would pay me a few centavos for every ten white hair roots I pulled out using tweezers. It was an easy way to earn ice cream money, but this stopped when there was more white than black hair. And so, she resorted to coloring her hair a jet black.
If memory serves me right, my first white strand made its appearance in my early 30s, but it wasn’t until my 50s that I gave in to peer pressure to dye my hair. I felt that this was important for business, as many times I had to deal with clients much younger than me. Besides, all my friends did too, making that weekly or monthly visit to the parlor part of their lifestyle.
I don’t really like going to the parlor (It’s a once-a-year visit to have my hair trimmed), but off I went because my friends convinced me that it wasn’t yet time to go grey. I was shocked when presented with the bill and so decided to find a less expensive alternative. This meant buying the dye myself, and getting a hair technician to do home service.
At first, it would be three months between hair coloring sessions but this became more often as more white hair roots appeared. Pretty soon, it became a bi-weekly habit. That is, until COVID-19 and the ensuing lockdown happened.
I decided to stop dyeing my hair to see how I would look with the grey. Not that I needed to, as I had an ample supply of hair dye in my cabinet. For years, my baby sister has been urging me to stop coloring my hair, just as she did years ago. And I thought, here’s my chance to finally heed her call and go back to having healthy hair.
You see, hair dye makes hair dry and brittle, and you need to put on a lot of conditioners and oils to keep it looking healthy. It also causes one to have dandruff, not to mention staining the towels.
At first, it was just the roots peeping out. But as the weeks turned into months, and the lockdown continued, the white hair began showing up more and more. And with all the virtual meetings happening almost every day, my white hair began to show in earnest. Colleagues and friends started to comment, urging me to color my hair. But dig in, I did.
And while I was resolute, there were times, I must admit, that I almost succumbed to the temptation of coloring my hair. After all, I had what was needed. But it was liberating not to have to dye my hair. I just wish my hair would grow faster to get past this awkward period where half my hair is grey and the other half a golden brown.
As I sat in the barber chair last Saturday at Chloe’s Cutback Barbers in La Union, I considered getting a pixie cut to remove all the dyed parts. Chloe suggested a trim instead, as it might be too abrupt a change for me. And since I love having my hair long, I decided to just weather this awkward stage.
These days, I still get surprised when I see my visage in the mirror. Is that really me? Because I don’t feel any older than before; in fact, I feel quite youthful and full of energy, even if I turned 50 for the 14th time last Friday. And just as my friend, Elisabeth urges her readers to “Love Your Age, and Grow Gracefully,” I intend to do exactly that: to love who I am now every single day and to continue to grow with grace.
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