Silverlicious

I was eighteen when I found my first gray hair. I remember standing in the bathroom of my freshman dorm, peering at the front of my head (which of course was a teased, layered mess of bangs a la 1988), wondering what the HELL was sticking out of my head? What was that wiry, white, weird thing sprouting from my dark brown hairsprayed mane?

Then I realized what it was. Gray hair! Aaaaack! I quickly grabbed a pair of tweezers and got rid of it, shuddering as I viciously plucked it from my scalp. After years of watching my mother dye her hair an endless rainbow of assorted red and auburn colors, I knew that gray hair had no place on the head of a young college student. I tossed the offending hair in the trash and quickly forgot about it.

Over the four (wait, five) years I spent in college I kept plucking the stubborn white hair that kept popping up. At first there were only a few, but by the time I (finally) graduated I felt like I was pulling pesky weeds that seemed to multiply each time I pulled them out.

By the time I was in my mid-20s and in graduate school I began experimenting with semi-permanent dye. I thought I could hold them off with an occasional spot check, but by the time I walked across the stage to accept my Master's degree I had succumbed to the hair dye aisle in CVS and was covering my entire head with permanent dye.

By my early thirties I had a whole clump of white hair on the top of my head which I desperately had to cover every four weeks. I remember stressing out when I became pregnant because I'd read that you shouldn't dye your hair during the first trimester, lest the chemicals from the hair dye render the baby brain damaged and sporting an extra limb. Throughout my thirties I continued to dye my hair, eventually turning to the hair salon for help and dropping hundreds of dollars every few months in an attempt to camouflage the white hair with blond highlights.

(If a hair stylist tells you that blond highlights will hide your gray roots, run the other way. She's LYING!!)

Earlier this year I had an epiphany. I was online and stumbled across a website called Going Gray, Looking Great! Curiosity got the better of me and I began perusing the endless photos of gorgeous women sporting various shades of gray hair. Gray, white, silver - it was glorious! Wait, I thought, is this what I'm hiding from? Some of these women weren't even old. Some of them were my age and even younger! I began to realize that despite those hours at the salon and the hundreds of dollars spent covering my roots, I wasn't really fooling anyone. Three weeks after a typical salon visit that white line would start showing up. What was I doing??

I decided it was time to let go. I waited until after a big formal event I was attending on Valentine's Day weekend, a Ukrainian debutante ball where we'd be dressed to the nines and seeing all of our friends. I went to the salon one last time on February 14th and colored my hair. That was officially day one of my journey into silver.

I won't lie - those first few months were not easy. As soon as the white line reappeared I found myself reaching for the box of hair dye I had purchased prior to making my decision to go natural. But I managed to control myself. I bought some cute headbands to mask the onslaught of the gray and white. I hid the box of hair dye and told myself it would all be worth it in the end. I joined a Facebook group called Going Gray and Loving It! On it I found an entire sisterhood of ladies of all ages who had made the same decision. I realized I was not alone.

I decided to wait and see how long it would take my family to figure out what I was doing. My daughter was the first one to say something about four weeks in. "Mom, you really need to cover those grays." she said. When I told her what I had decided to do she looked at me in horror and wailed "No, Mama, no! You'll look like a witch!" She got over it though and now she's my biggest advocate, sticking up for me rather indignantly whenever my son tells me to dye it. My husband was the last in the family to notice, although I think maybe he noticed and was afraid to say anything. To his credit he's been very supportive, perhaps because he has his own family of silver growing on his head. I think when it's all said and done we'll match rather nicely.

The most silent group however have been my friends. I waited and waited for weeks and months for someone to say something, anything! I think people are afraid of gray hair. It's like asking someone if they're pregnant; unless you're absolutely sure, you say NOTHING.

So I'm writing this at long last to say - it's ok! You can comment on my hair - as long as you don't say the following things:

"You can always dye it back if you don't like it."

"I could never do that - gray hair makes people look older."

"You've only been growing it for six months?"

Hair grows about half an inch a month. That's really slow. It will probably take about a year and half for it to completely grow out to be the length that it is now which is slightly above my shoulders. It's a bit like watching grass grow. It can be frustrating. Sometimes I'm tempted just to chop it all off and get rid of the dyed hair once and for all, which has turned a lovely shade of orange due to the summer of sun and chlorine. Sometimes I'm out in public and I'll catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and I'll think "Oh, my God, what am I DOING?"

But occasionally I'll catch the reflection of the top of my head in the rear view mirror in the car as I'm waiting at a stoplight. When the white catches the sunlight in a certain way it shines and shimmers in a way that my dyed hair never did. Sometimes I'll see women at the grocery store who are ten to twenty years older than I am with their hair dyed a dull, monotone brown and I'll think "I don't want to look like that." On the flip side, I'm noticing more and more women out there who seem to be transitioning from the world of dye to the world of silver. I'm always tempted to high five them and say "You go girl!"

Next week it will be seven months and three and half inches in.  I'm in this for the long haul and I'm loving every minute of it. Now if it would just grow a little faster!