bellemorda

on the paternal side of my family, premature white. as in like white hair in their twenties but stunningly white. the kind that you see on blood elves and in japanese mystery horror films. on the maternal side also a premature color loss but not very attractive, the kind of half-drenched urban blacktop after a trepidatious August rainstorm kind of color loss. for years my mother, whom I look like genetically and sound identical to, had forlornly admonished me (not in words but by practice) to follow practice and color my hair. 

that would be the coloring of the colorless hairs. and in case you were wondering my hair used to be a very deep and flattering auburn. like some of my flist who posted in their LJ, in my 20's I saw the first colorless strands (the red strands lost their color before any of the darkly pigmented ones) and was wholly fascinated at how one strand of hair could frost itself overnight. but to me it was just hair, always mine. I loved the texture and color and feel of it all silky and thick and how it suited me just fine. yet I followed that line that generally people are afraid of bucking perception and try their damndest to prevent the fact that they are indeed aging, all thinking that it was somehow wrong to *not* color my hair and keep it that gorgeous auburn. 

and I was all caught up preserving what I thought I loved about my hair in that way women do when they keep the same style for decades or refuse to admit that they are a separate personality from the visual importance and representation of power, sexuality and identity that is affixed to hair. the deeply affecting percetion of hair as an expression of personality and sensuality is something ingrained in us. even when we change our hair as frequently as furnace filters its because we're reinforcing our the whimsical, flexible and adventurous sides of our personas.

and here's what changed all that. without going into detail, I had major surgery (no it was not gender reassignment, just in case you're wondering the worst :P), after which I gave up on a lot of things. I stopped caring about what happened to me, what people thought of me, about goals and dreams and anything more than getting through a very sad time in my life. I felt it necessary to plumb some of the really rock bottomy depths of all the "why nots" in my life. I stopped coloring my hair and welcomed the come-and-be-damned whatever would befall me. and I cut all my hair off. In the end, my hair was this short and even shorter on the sides and back:




and to my surprise with every bit of the color cut out, it was....unexpected and shocking. Beautiful, strange, eye-opening, and wrong, oh so very, very wrong in the best way. I laughed my fool head off in victory. I'd found the perfect expression for how that time in my life made me feel. the hairdresser did not know what to say, except "now that's going to make a lot of people to look twice."

the impact on my family and people who knew me was explosive. everybody had an opinion, and felt it their duty to tell me how I was ripping the very fabric of everybody's status quo to confetti. my aunts, older than me by years, indignant with "how could you" and "you make us all look bad (as they still color their hair);" friends my age told me it made me look old and tired because it was the same color as "old people's hair;" kindergarteners in the twinkies' first school and strangers in the grocery store mistook me for my kids' grandmother -- bwah! oh I'm sure there were lots of 30-something grandmothers, only I wasn't one. 

but for those who actually looked at me and why I did it instead of thinking I did it to upset the delicate perceptive order of the world as it related to them, I received a lot of very positive commentary, mostly along the lines of:  where did I get such a gorgeous highlighting job, was it as silky as it looked, how unusual it was to see somebody as young as me with the balls to let it shine. a lot of stunned appreciation, murmurred compliments, and a lot of very, very nice attention from poeple (predominantly men) both young and old who on first and second glance realized I was a) not as old as my hair made me seem and b) not as young as my face made me seem.

people assume because of the color and the idea that as it ages our hair brittles that my hair is as steely hard as the color implies. now that its grown out over the years, and is back to its long, silky silvery length, its even more striking. I think I remember telling my wolfie in a conversation that it is a regular occurrence when I'm out shopping or in relaxed social situations I get a lot of questions about my hair, expressly, curious requests to touch it and pleasantly astonished responses when people do as yes, it feels luxuriously textured which I guess is in juxtaposition to the visual impression it gives.

some people say they would take the same path I did, but honestly they fear having to deal with the social pressure to conform, or they do not have the daily will to face the scrutiny, or they don't really want to make a statement about how individual they are. its hard to take this path. I rarely see people my age who have chosen to do the same as I have. maybe that's harsh. maybe they really need a good circumstance like mine to serve as the impetus to jump off into this realm. mostly they make comments about how they are sure their hair would not be attractive this same color, or how they don't want to be considered old before their time. that's fine, all well and good.

I know however, the friends on my flist who are experiencing the moments where the silver is coming through, you are the ones who are aging gracefully, looking at the advent of this moment with curiosity and interest, and looking for the day when it will be an integral part of your life, your personality and appearance. and I'm telling you, its worth it.

so there's my tale. as I explain it, its nice to have hair the color of 23.13% of all RPG characters's hair. the ones who love me know well know how I look but here you go (and yes, I do look a little sleep deprived in one of them, but that's my life) :