From #Greymatter to #GreyPride

Blog posted: 15th September 2019

Yes I greyed before my time. And please do not ask me what that time was supposed to be.
At 40 I earnestly believe it’s still not my time.

Having said that, these urgent unrestrained declarations of maturity made their presence felt in ways that intersected with social ideas of youth much sooner than I had anticipated or desired.
Sincerely speaking I have always accused the first splash of L’Oréal in my youth for this cranial disaster.

The story goes, as is usually quoted to my loved ones, “had I not coloured my hair so early, for reasons of fashion and profession, I would not be stranded with so many white strands today”.
Clear and precise bullshit. Which is where this take comes from.

Some people grey so exquisitely, esp some men that it hurts. They even have a moniker for it “the salt and pepper look”... well let’s just say I am partial to salt on my platter.

But undeniably, it is traumatic for us, the womenfolk, predestined to bear the brunt of such an unruly mob that rules the tête so impartially and brutally. Murder by keratin loss. Most Definitively.

You go from girl to woman, didi to aunty in 3 seconds flat. And that’s not how you planned on being a Ferrari at 40. You wanted that drive to be a long slow one, gazing at the Amalfi coast, wind blowing your dark luscious brown tresses at the Mediterranean. Sigh.

So how do you cope with these self proclaimed displays of intellectual pride and joy before their time?
How do you handle these stray comments that go...
-“ hey you have a lot of greys...how come?” (Let me google that one)
- “Wow you really do take a lot of stress huh?” (Yes, it’s a thing you know)
-“you really like your whites, no?” (She must be referring to my kurta)
-“Was it the divorce?” (Mm let’s see, that’s plausible, but no)
-“How old are you..? No, really?” (He meant that in a nice way... surely)
-“They look nice but have you tried the latest Schwarzkopf line of soft browns?” (No actually. I am more the electric blue sort of girl)

Do you:
- blink and stare into eternity like a lost puppy who just swallowed his master’s philosophy paper?
- you stare them down with a superior, wisened narrowing of eyes and come back with a cool repartee about fine wine?
- you go full battle mode and vomit the feminist spiel you prepped for this moment?
- you underline how you have come to adore theselittle streaks of defiance and can’t bear to undo the look?
- you tell them how the love of your life loves your greys with a passion?
- you call up Bridgette Jones and book the Monday 3pm slot for an additional spa and colour!

...You can add to that list.

For me, it has been the last option for a fairly long time. Frankly I could never really manage to come up with a smart one liner to breach that pertinent youth-loss status barrage of queries with total domination: until recently.

My own son isn’t very comfortable either with the idea of me looking my age or older as is often the case with such a mane. But then he is figuring out this time, she isn’t too keen to look any younger.
I, for my own person have lingered on this thought for a while now...since July to be precise, whence came the momentous turn of turning 40.

It changes you, these trips around the sun: they make you come to terms with your body and what it’s trying to tell you. You learn to accept who you are. In that little tête. Physically. Emotionally, Socially. And most significantly, personally.

I am learning to love these lines that mark my face with laughter. Loving the long tired looks I give people after a long day. I don’t mind telling friends I want to just hang at home over a coffee and music and not at a pub where the dj spins music I can’t connect with. I am feeling refreshed with the idea of a carrom evening with the son and a loser film at inox with friends which end in politically correct bed time rituals.

But right now what I am loving the most are my greys.
They give me great hope. They are indomitable. They make a comeback every single time I try to convince them with a monthly shot of ammonia, beseeching them to hide or disappear. They are determined and bold: strong and resilient. They are my constant; they are my favourite on the shade card....but most importantly they are mine.

And. It is time to be who I am.
40, Grey and happy.