I’m growing a gray hair, finally, and am very happy about it.
Most people I know freak out on some level about the whites that creep into their color. Most women I know dye their hair anyway, maybe even in preparation for the day gray will come their way.
I, for now, am excited about the strike of white on my head. For now it just few shy hairs that are barely noticeable, not a nice visible lock.
You might argue with me that I’ll see when it comes visible that I’ll change my opinion and I wouldn’t go so far to disagree. It might happen that I change so radically that I grow the desire to eradicate all signs of age from myself. But for now I’m eager to see who will be right.
You see I’m having this argument with my mother for ages now. She just always adored to dye her hair, and still does. She loathes gray hairs. And she always thought and said that I’ll see when it comes my turn that I’ll change my mind and wish myself young and attractive. Not in those words, she just thought I’ll start to dye my hair.
Till this day I thought of myself to be to lazy to put so much effort into my hair and color. But that’s not the main reason for my joy and pride for my grays.
The true reason is that I always considered my grandmother to be most wise and kind woman of them all. And that I looked forward in gaining so much wisdom. Because, you see, for me the true strength of women is not in their youth and beauty, but in wisdom and freedom to speak their minds that comes with age. If you use it wisely of course.
So I don’t have any plan to get old instantly, but to wear my whites with pride looking forward of being mature woman that knows her domain and speaks her mind is something to relish.
After all I always thought myself to be old and that my prime time isn’t in my teens or twenties but is yet to come.