Well, thanks to my father's genes, I have been turning white since I was 32 years old. Yes, pregnant and turning white. I started coloring my hair when people started asking me about my cute little granddaughter when it was my two year old daughter in my arms. DONE!
Over the decades, with my colored hair in place, I have often been mistaken for being ten years younger than I am due mostly to my mother's genetics and her relatively wrinkle free aging gene. When I retired at the age of 64, many colleagues across campus assumed I was retiring VERY young - like in my fifties. I thanked them profusely but proclaimed that I was only a year early and had figured out I had just enough vim and vigour left to travel and explore a life without children and job, and, the release from the demands of hundreds of energetic college students.
In retirement, I set out to find ME - re-branding into a retiree with a passion for ....writing, painting, and living the good life. Much of this was new for me and I stayed in the rut of colored hair and ultra short cuts fearing to venture forth. Last year I looked back on all the amazing things that had permeated my life at this stage - my first published stories, my first painting sold, and my initiation into a more political realm. I had made a foray into trying to find a new style of dressing about a year into retirement considering I no longer went to an office each day and segued into t-shirts and capris for 9 months of the year. I didn't even bother with trendy jeans as I sat back, sipped our home brew and watched the sunset over the mountains and lake. I was a time bomb waiting to erupt. This was not me! Not yet.
With a little writing under my belt and a lot of painting sitting on my shelves (not yet selling like a pro!) I decided I needed a new look. I also needed to start saving some money to fit the new retiree budget and it was obvious that colouring my hair was a feasible place to start - right? This isn't necessarily for everyone but for me....it made sense. I took a few pictures into the hair salon, told her I was going to let my hair grow out but asked her to transform the cut into something a little more funky so I didn't turn into a 70 or 80 year old before my time. I didn't want granny curls with purple rinse - unless, of course, it was purple stripes tastefully sweeping across my bangs! She introduced me to an asymmetrical, swing-y cut that almost took all of the final blonde ends off leaving only a light dusting across the front. Over the months that has been slowly eroded and I think the next cut will eliminate even that faint golden glow of things past.
It is a fact - the NOW of me has started to emerge. I implore you to wear your age with a pizzazz that reflects the real you - colored or not! The you that you are now, not ten years ago.
Now, I need help with my makeup and wardrobe and...well, I will be trolling the internet for ideas on that!