Carolyn J. Rose
"It’s not bad now,”
my hairdresser said as she trimmed off split ends a few weeks ago, “but it’s
going to get scary when you have more gray showing.”
|December 8, 2013|
Since my decision to stop coloring my hair cut into her income, I didn’t expect her to applaud and cheer me along.
I found myself tipping my head to get a better view of the process underway since the end of the summer. Yes, there’s a definite line of demarcation. Yes, it’s obvious I haven’t been touching up the roots. Yes, it’s clear that there are strands and streaks of gray and even white.
But is that scary?
And if so, why?
Because we fear aging, fear the wrinkles and sagging and graying? Do we see those things not as symbols of wisdom and experience, but simply signs that time is passing and we’re no longer young?
If so, is that fear rooted in opinions about outward appearance? Is it based on what the makers of cosmetics and creams and diets and exercise programs tell us?
Or is the fear deeper, primal, coded into our DNA? Is it a fear of loss of ability and power and place in society? Is it fear about what comes next?
I have no idea. Do you?