It’s a fight I’ve been engaged in for over a decade. I was still a teenager when I found my first silver strand and the logical response at that time was of course to yank it out at the root. My hair is extremely thick, I reasoned…who cares if I tear out a few here and there? Sadly, into my 20s the little boogers continued to multiply in spite of my regular removal of their compatriots. I never really said anything about it to anyone but my mom, who gently reminded me that my dad went grey at a very young age.
My dad’s last name is Whitehead…guess we know how that family name originated.
Soon a friend from church choir who was studying at Douglas J convinced me to get highlights. Fairly quickly we advanced to all-over color and I faithfully kept it up for years. It looked good! We played with various tones…chestnut, auburn, brown with golden highlights, even a year or so of black with indigo highlights on just the right side of my head. It was fun to change looks and for the most part I could forget about my Whitehead roots.
In my 30s I got married and pregnant. Once the baby arrived it became more and more difficult to motivate myself to go get my hair colored. It’s tough to get out of the house with a newborn, no matter how accommodating the situation! I also noticed the grey we were covering seemed to be more plentiful and aggressive; regrowth was noticeable just two weeks after a color. I was tired of the frequency, the cost, and of using babysitter time to sniff chemicals for three hours. On a whim I googled something about greying in your 30s and found How Bourgeois. This girl makes grey look so good! I began to seriously contemplate giving up the dye.
After about a year of going back and forth, I missed a scheduled hair appointment and couldn’t get another one until three or four weeks later. Again I contemplated aloud the grey hair thing and my husband encouraged me to go for it. “You can always go back to color if you don’t like it.” With his full support, I made the decision. The last time I dyed my hair was February 27. I was growing out the grey.
Rather than drag out the process to mask what I was doing or to keep my length, I decided to let it go long enough so I could get a cute pixie cut and then lop off the color. The date of the big chop was set for July 2 and we had four months of growth to work with. There are still bits of color left on my head that will be trimmed off over the next couple of haircuts but for the most part, I’m now grey. My hair is shorter than it has ever been and my curls are on hiatus until I begin to grow them out again. For now, I’m enjoying the change, the uniqueness of my color (just try and get your faux granny hair to look like this, kids!), and the freedom from having to keep up the dye.
Beauty is available at every age and in every color. Embrace it!