Shifty Fades of Grey - My Story of O
It's Day 4 since I decided to accept my grey, and so far it's going better than brilliant - very happy with the colours and it's made a tremendous difference to how I feel about myself.
I've been rather reflective since Sunday (and that's not just reference to the silver catching the electric light in our house).
If I'm honest, I struggled a bit with the term transitioning, because of the significance the word has for the transgender community (for the record, I'm pro LGBT+ - my anxiety rested with using the same word for my fade to grey), but I'm an English scholar, so I know it is the right word for this.
For years, my roots have been an indication of my mental and physical health. When they've started to peek through (usually a week or two after they've been pasted into brown benevolence), it's been an emotional struggle to face the world - for me it was tangible evidence that I was too tired/busy/unhappy to touch them up, and people knew this.
Even supposing I found the time and energy to apply the dye, I was permanently depressed by the mess and the smell. Add in the ruined towels and I'd be hopping mad. All for about four days of feeling okay, in between the brown stains lifting from my hairline and the grey growth coming through. I was scared to wash my hair in case it decreased the time between dyes.
My story of O is brief.
That one little letter, whether it's a perfect circle, an oval or an ellipse, it doesn't matter.
It's changed my life from "Oh God, my roots are showing" to "Oh good, my roots are showing".
O my goodness, I'm happy.
I've been rather reflective since Sunday (and that's not just reference to the silver catching the electric light in our house).
If I'm honest, I struggled a bit with the term transitioning, because of the significance the word has for the transgender community (for the record, I'm pro LGBT+ - my anxiety rested with using the same word for my fade to grey), but I'm an English scholar, so I know it is the right word for this.
For years, my roots have been an indication of my mental and physical health. When they've started to peek through (usually a week or two after they've been pasted into brown benevolence), it's been an emotional struggle to face the world - for me it was tangible evidence that I was too tired/busy/unhappy to touch them up, and people knew this.
Even supposing I found the time and energy to apply the dye, I was permanently depressed by the mess and the smell. Add in the ruined towels and I'd be hopping mad. All for about four days of feeling okay, in between the brown stains lifting from my hairline and the grey growth coming through. I was scared to wash my hair in case it decreased the time between dyes.
My story of O is brief.
That one little letter, whether it's a perfect circle, an oval or an ellipse, it doesn't matter.
It's changed my life from "Oh God, my roots are showing" to "Oh good, my roots are showing".
O my goodness, I'm happy.
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Thanks for ranting!