What’s Bozo Got To Do With Going Gray?
Wednesday is my two-month anniversary! It’s been two months since I last colored my hair. Until now, things have rolled along pretty easily without anyone noticing my ever-encroaching silvery roots. At least no one has commented up to this point. I haven’t even noticed any covert looks or eyes on my hairline instead of my face. I have a feeling that’s all about to change though.
In the last week or two, I must admit, I’ve felt a bit self-conscious when out and about with my multi-colored locks. I’ve used this brown spray-on root cover up only twice so far. I seriously contemplated using it recently for a trip to the gym, but then I thought about the possibility of dark brown rivulets of sweat streaming from my head, down my face, and splatting onto the floor. Definitely more embarrassing than sporting some silver roots.
Even though no one has expressed any interest in my hair one way or the other so far, I’ve felt society’s anti-aging youth worship in coming to terms with my advancing years. Where some cultures value the experience of age and, therefore, value the elderly, in our culture it’s the opposite. We do everything we can to slow down the aging process, camouflage it, and pretend it’s not happening. We’re so against aging that oftentimes the elderly become irrelevant and invisible. I’ve had those feelings myself already with only an inch of gray showing—that somehow I’m less valuable than I used to be because now you can see the evidence of how old I really am. There’s no more pretending. It’s hogwash, but it’s the brainwashing of our youth-oriented culture. It kind of reminds me of when I was confined to a wheelchair for a brief period of time several years ago. I was quite shocked at how people looked right through me as if I wasn’t even there. People were so uncomfortable seeing a disability (even a temporary one) they treated me as though I was invisible. Maybe that’s what it is with aging, too. People are uncomfortable with getting older, and the elderly remind them it’s inevitable.
Two months of regrowth showing some silvery sparkles!
But let’s get back to the going natural process. There are lots of ways to go about it. You could bleach out the dyed hair and put a silver toner on to help blend. There are highlights and lowlights for blending. You could go lighter so the demarcation line will be less noticeable. For me, I’m opting for the “cold turkey” route. Just let it grow out whatever it looks like. Cold turkey may seem like the easiest way to do it since you don’t have to “do” anything but let it grow, but let me tell you, cold turkey is not easy. So why am I opting to do it that way? Well, it’s kind of like choosing natural childbirth. Yep, I mean no epidural, no drugs, no nothing. Just like I chose natural childbirth because I wanted to experience all of it—every feeling of bringing a new life into the world—so, too, I want to experience all of the feelings, good and bad, of growing out my natural hair color in our youth-oriented culture. I don’t want to miss any of it. That doesn’t mean I think it will be easy.
Two months!
One of the harder parts of going cold turkey is that over time the dyed hair gets very faded and brassy, and it doesn’t take long. The women in a few “going gray” Facebook groups I belong to have called this lovely brassy color “blorange.” Oh yeah, on top of that, I’m also growing out my short cut at the same time. I figure I’ll get all the misery over with at one time. I have wavy hair, so that means I usually have wings sticking out in all the wrong places. Last night Joe (lovingly) called me Bozo. Do you remember Bozo’s hair? I assumed he was talking big old wings on the sides of my head, but turns out he was talking RED hair—blorange! Two months in and I’m already there! No telling what next month will bring. My hair is going to be whacky for at least another year—style and color. I hope it’ll be worth it!
Bozo blorange!
