I’m not high maintenance, but motherhood didn’t do that to me. Honestly, I believe it’s because I am lazy when it comes to fixing myself up. I am also frugal and due to aforementioned laziness, I would never be able to maintain some of the fads, like eyelash extensions, shellac nails, microdermabrasion facials and keratin treatments. Because once you start, you have to continue the luxury. I am not dissing the moms who partake in all things pretty. Actually, I am probably a bit jealous, because who doesn’t love being pampered and the end product of being pampered?
Ok, I do the basics
Dare I say, I indulge in two rituals – hair (touch up) and a clean brow, roughly every 4-6 weeks. Post motherhood, I have been known to push those back by 6 to 12 weeks. Before my appointments are penciled in, I have to clear it with the husband. Not because I am asking permission, but I need him home to watch our boys. Honestly, booking appointments stresses me out, instead of the intended purpose of relaxing me. Arranging someone to watch my kids while I do something for myself doesn’t sit well with me, thus I work around my husband’s schedule (bless his heart) and he usually makes it work. I can barely commit to the critical appointments like teeth cleaning every six months. You see my predicament? Is the effort of coloring my gray hair worth my inner battle?
Do you get gray hair for being wise or stressed?
I’ll go with the latter.
Genetics follow you, as you age. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I say that as I check to see how many grays have conquered my head of hair. I look closer at what used to be brown mousey hair and now has silver woven throughout. Of course, in our society, there seems to be gender stereotypes, just simply the way we view a man and woman who are graying: Silver Fox vs Old Hag. Talk about a double standard. I, myself say to my husband, “Wow did you see that lady, I wonder how old she is?” I am embarrassed to admit this, I even mutter to myself about how a graying lady sure let herself go- based solely on her hair. Shame on me, I know. I’m an imposter covering my sparkles (I like that name, much better).
Epiphany: it’s just hair
Then I come back down to earth and think silver hair or not. Hair or no hair. It sounds cliché, but there is truth to this: it’s just hair. I may not be able to keep up with the rapid out-growth of my gray hair and that is perfectly ok. Some months I will recruit my husband to dye my hair with a box of Clairol. Other months I will feel it is time to sit in a salon chair. This is my hair. I am going to change the way we view gray hair on women and start referring to them as Silver Vixens. Confidence, just like hair dye, can’t be found in a box. It comes from within.
Rock on Silver Vixens, rock on!