Post 2. I’m not sure how I missed that I have two sets of doubles. Oh well, they’re pretty.
My son wanted to know why my hair was all of a sudden silver. Well, Mommy can’t afford her ‘real’ color.
And yes, my hair is not grey; it is definitely silver. And that’s not vain. And it’s been turning silver since I was about 17 just like my Dad.
The thing is, I like the silver. I really do.
When I was dating my husband, we went to a Halloween party and I dressed as Poison Ivy, so I decided to dye my hair red for the party.
I looked at my (short) red hair against my brown eyes and sallow, yellowy skin and I realized that I was supposed to be born a redhead, and I have been ever since (a couple of decades now).
It makes me sad when I pass by a mirror and see the silver shine and sparkle because that’s just not me.
It’s not vanity or age; it’s just not me.
It’s very much the same feeling I get from Wales. Having not been born there or having any kind of Welsh heritage, I still feel ‘from there’. It feels as though I’m being given the feelings and images of who I’m supposed to be and I just need the courage to take those steps.
I’ve been to Wales and it is embedded on my soul.
As for my hair, sure I’ve never let it revert back fully to silver until now. People tease me thinking I dye it to ‘cover the grey’ but that is so far from the reason that it truly pains me when it’s pointed out.
I am sad that I can’t afford something so small that feels so good; that lets me be me.
My hairdresser helped me pick a cheaper over the counter dye until I can go back to her, so I will hope for the best and dye it back tomorrow.
Because while I do love the silver, I’d rather be me. Redheaded me is a different person, and actually perhaps reverting fully back to silver and starting my color over again is a good metaphor for my life and what the rest of this year is going to look like.