Greying gracefully

RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE

The most distinguished people are those who do not interfere in others affairs. On the contrary, meddling is synonymous with several people and I know. One asks Why do you dye your hair? What is wrong in looking your age? Yet another would ask --why did you not dye your hair; do you want to project your wiseness? People with low self-esteem are likely to shrink from evaluation and avoid exacerbating their wounded self-esteem.

I often say kids say the darnedest things, but adults can be ruder. Such incidents always remind me of the three wise monkeys--see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. For me they have always symbolized, not speaking badly, ignoring or looking away from someone who insults you, and refraining from speaking badly about yourself. I try to keep that philosophy in mind when I encounter rude people, but I am pretty snarky when I want to be.

I try to remain true to my personal vision and try not to pay heed to biased opinions. Having spent sufficient time trying to enhance the self-image and squandering energy to find my ideal self, I feel quite quaint now. Gratified with who I am, decided to grit my teeth, stop dyeing my hair, stop living as if my primary value was in how I was being perceived and stop participating in this ritual, I resent. I have made peace with the diminishment of virility and made a sane decision about tonsorial future. However, I was sure everyone is looking at me. I’d preempt their imagined judgment by announcing that I was growing out my grey on purpose, calling even more attention to the ugly little band of salt-and-pepper strands straddling my part.

Acceptance is deliverance. Now I am delightfully counting the sprouting greys. I spot new strands frequently, and for some reason, they delight me. Each seems like a small victory, a sign of arrival. I don’t know which of life’s many stresses prompted the change, or if it’s just, well, age, but I consider their presence a kind of triumph.

They show I’m a survivor and seem like a tribute to my strength. Ditching the dye has liberated me in more ways than one and I couldn’t give a toss of my silver mane.