Six months later I saw a photo of me and my natural hair color. Shock! Horror! No Way! The seedier side of my personality groused something like, "Blank this s..t! I'm off to the hairdresser now."
And then my sage-ier side leaped forward and argued the enviromental and C02 issues, and a muffled voice whimped "Your silver shows wisdom." Seedier side yelled, "Screw wisdom! I'm not going old!"
Meanwhile my young hairdresser wrapped my shoulders with her plastic cape, ran her hands through my thick hair, commented about what wonderful condition it is in, and asked "What do you have in mind today?"Seedy Charmaine and Sagey Charmaine met in the middle. "Light weave as close to the brown hair in the back as possible. Leave some silver as highlights."
I left Pacific Hair Design twenty years younger--in my mind.
So I'm living in this 60 is the new 40 mind set. Spouse and I make regular visits to the local tennis courts where I envision myself gracefully leaping through the air while my brown locks glisten in the sun and glorify my fashionable tennis attire.
That's just a dirty mind-trick. My tennis attire is the baggiest shorts and t-
shirts I own so as to accomodate the near-mummy wrapping over my wrists, knee and ankle. No hair shows because I wear a full hat to keep evil sunlight from my face and eyes. I'm glad we play during school hours because I would frighten anyone under age 16. "Mommy, Mommy, a big fat mummy is on the tennis courts!"Yet I remain firm in my youth. Well, until last night--a five-finger count from my six-one-oh-dear-day.
A younger news editor commented on the state of the proposed health care bill and discussed the expansion of Medicare to 55-year-olds. He said, "I don't know if this
proposal to serve THE ELDERLY...."WTF! The ELDERLY! At 55! I don't think so. Doesn't he know that the new 55 is 35--probably his age, and that he's the new 15.
Unless one dies young, aging happens. I remember my 35th birthday, and then that 40th birthday, and then that 50th birthday and then that 60th birthday. The only changes are the numbers (well maybe that along with some extra aspirin and Ben-Gay), some silvery strands on the head and the will to stay relevant.
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3 comments:
Deep in the heart of our "mind tricks" to deal with our hippie generation getting, dare I say, older, I laugh SO hard at your own observations, Charmaine!!!! I guess, besides playing tennis, climbing mountains and touching up our hair color, why not just laugh our butts off about this "condition"! Claudia
PS... Happy Birthday!
I hit the same hair crisis this year. All of a sudden, coloring my hair felt alien. My hairdresser offered to ease me in to a new look and we've been at it now for about 6 months. She cut it pretty short so the transition would be over sooner. I was sure I'd hate it, and that I was slipping into the crone phase of "I have grey hair. Deal with it." Weirdly, that all seems like ancient history now. I actually LIKE the way my hair looks with the grey right there in plain sight!
Funny about the tennis ensemble ;-) but hey, it makes perfect sense to me!
-Doni
Happy Birthday to you!
Char, for goodness sake! We're in our 60s? I suppose it's terrifying because when we were younger 60 seemed so oooold. I should tell you that 61 is not so bad. I give thanks that I have had a life that many of my friends were denied. In some aspects I feel it a duty to enjoy myself for them.
Personally, I prefer for Ginny to touch-up her grey because that makes me feel better. Funny that it is a rare thing that men get their hair colored. I'm actually losing mine fast enough that the color is a moot issue. You should remember that virtually all the Haley's turned prematurely gray — your father was turning gray when he was in high school.
If you feel young Char, then I feel younger. So, go with the color which you makes feel more comfortable. Incidentally, I'm impressed that you are playing tennis — you go girl!
Missing you,
Paul
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