Years ago, Selma Hayek addressed aging in a popular fashion magazine (super vague and terrible reporting but I subscribe to more than five and I have for about ten years so I am taking the lazy route and not finding then linking the exact article). Okay, fine, here it is. 22nd May 2006 Quote: “I had a grey hair once, but I reversed it. I didn’t pull it out, I just willed it to go away.” Actress Salma Hayek offers advice on how to banish the signs of aging. Read more at http://www.contactmusic.com/salma-hayek/quotes#Zq39hfSWL7fYlwdC.99 I didn’t really fear getting gray hair because that wouldn’t happen until I was oh, I don’t know, 85 or so. When it did, I would just will it away, you, know, like Selma did.
It would be disgustingly ageist to suggest that my daytrip to the botanical gardens in the middle of a weekday was categorically an event enjoyed by a more senior population but that is what I am going with to tell you what I have to tell you next. Perhaps, I was mistakenly targeted as a retiree today, because I have spotted an interloper in the midst of an otherwise dark field of companions. I have a gray hair. (Technically, I HAD a gray hair, because after willing as hard as I could, without success, I took tweezers and removed the offender).
To which I politely say, no. No, thank you gray hair. Not here. Not yet.
My husband has a fine dusting of gray in his dark hair and you know what that makes him look like? A million dollars. He looks distinguished. He looks trustworthy. He looks like a man who knows things, I don’t just mean that in an awkward eye-brow wiggling creepy way I might emphasize if we were just friends having a chat and I was a little tipsy…I mean that he looks like a person that is somehow both smoother and more rugged than he was when I met him at nineteen. He got those grays making thoughtful, intricate, difficult decisions. He earned them.
On me? I look frazzled and haggard. As if at any moment I could turn into the cartoon Kathy and a bubble shouting AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! would appear above my head. How is that fair? The problem that any self-respecting unwanted hair removing vigilante can understand is that I have now crossed the line. I have felled a comrade and more will be returning to seek their vengeance.
Until I can deal with this whole situation properly (because my children are asleep and I can’t just run out to Walmart and buy every box of hair color available, like a normal person) I will leave you with the images from the gardens today that soothed my soul no matter my age or state of hair. Until then, friends, Namaste a gray free zone…