Taking the plunge

I’m in the midst of a big change. I’ve taken the plunge. Decided it was time. Decided if anyone has a problem with it, it says more about them than it does about me. Still a bit nervous, but not enough to stop doing it.

It was the lockdown, you see. Seven weeks when I only saw my husband, or neighbours on walks, or friends/family on Zoom. Gradually, as the weeks went on, I got used to it. Became fascinated by it. Realised I quite liked it, in a strange – to me, at least – kind of way. Then our lockdown ended, our communities declared COVID-free, and I had no reason to be shy, to stay inside, to stay away from people. I took tentative steps out, feeling a little exposed.

I hoped it was obvious enough to seem deliberate. I was aware of the double standards around it. Fine for men, but questionable for women. Fine for blonds to show theirs, but not for brunettes. I waited a bit longer. I was coping so far, and the longer I waited, the more it became something that seemed doable. Great reactions from a friend the first time we met post-lockdown encouraged me to continue.

Winter helped. Cold weather encourages hibernation, scarves and hats, shoulders held high around our necks keeping us warm. But that made me wary of taking the next step.

Finally, last week, it was time. I couldn’t delay any longer. Time to see if I could really do it, or if I would backslide, leaving the big decision for another day, month, year. So I took the plunge, dived in, got rid of the old, and emerged anew. Looking fresher, younger even, which was unexpected. Looking authentic. Surprisingly, to me at least, feeling authentic. Feeling free. I didn’t see that coming.

In case it wasn’t obvious, I have embraced the grey/silver/white. It first started appearing in my mid-20s, so it has been with me a long time. I don ‘t regret colouring. I’ve heard (and seen) a few self-righteous mid-50 year olds possessing only a smattering of greys and silvers in amongst their mostly dark hair criticise those of us who have coloured. But they didn’t have to face that in their 20s or 30s or even 40s. So I don’t criticise anyone for colouring. I just always knew it was coming. I didn’t want to be my aunt, who coloured her hair jet black into her 70s. When she finally grew out her dye, she had beautiful soft white hair. It was rare to see a Thai woman with grey or white hair, but the black hair on 70-and-80-year-olds never looked natural or right to me.

Ultimately, colouring perpetuates the image that ageing is a bad thing, that women need to be young or appear young to remain attractive. I knew that of course. But peer pressure and judgement is powerful. I’ve read people who have said they are embracing the grey because they don’t care, using a hashtag #greyhairdon’tcare. It’s not that they don’t care about their appearance, as implied by judgemental others. What they don’t care about is society’s obsession with youth, particularly for women, and society’s obsession in controlling how women should look and behave. They – perhaps I should now say WE – don’t care about the peer pressure, the double standards (the “men look distinguished, women look old” lying distortion of beauty), the way our appearance is so often related to value. It’s so wrong. It’s so sexist. It’s so discriminatory. I’m so over it all!