It’s been a year since I last dyed my hair. After a few years of being blonde I had my hairdresser take me as close to my natural hair colour as possible – dark brown – and from there, I’ve let my hair do its thing.
The grey hair had been peeking through consistently since my late teens, and at 35, I decided to let them grow.
I declared my intention on Instagram and on this blog,
The upset of that moment is etched in my memory. When I take myself back, I can still feel the heat burning in my cheeks. My body temperature rising with every pair of eyes that suddenly fell upon me.
Shame. Confusion. Discomfort. Complete and utter embarrassment.
It was a comment that I’m certain she has forgotten saying. But not me. It’s etched in my mind forever, and it’s only recently that the pieces of that particular puzzle fit together and I realised that it was a comment that actually heavily influenced the trajectory of my early adult life.
The messaging consistently tells us that young is often best. That growing old is something to be fearful of, or to avoid. “Anti-age”, “find eternal youth”, “cover the greys”, “top 25 hottest young CEOs”. It’s consistent. It’s everywhere. Encouraging women to think we need to be in our “youthful 20s” forever.
I’m done with it.
Of course, I think young women are powerful too – this isn’t “anti-young”. I’m just done with the narrative that getting old is something we need to fight.
I’ve been sitting on these words for a few months now. Editing, fine tuning and procrastinating. Not quite ready to hit publish. Because it’s hard to share a story of bravery, when the outcome was actually… failure.
But first my friends, I need to go back a bit. Because I need to tell you about the young girl who throughout her entire schooling life loved to perform. Being on stage was my happy place. The space I would go,
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Drive home from work.
Listening to podcasts and thinking about how much I’ll get done in the 2.5 hours I have up my sleeve before I have to get the kids.
This is going to be good! I am so inspired! The ideas are flowing.
Home from work.
I’m loving this cooler weather. What’s the temperature going to be for the rest of the week?
*quick search and then a little scroll through Insta*
I’m starving!
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“Owning your seat at the table.”
I’ve heard this phrase used a lot recently, and it continues to hit me right in the heart.
For a long time, I didn’t own my seat at the table. In fact, I wholeheartedly believed that I didn’t deserve to be in the room, let alone sitting at the table.
But with age, and wisdom, and insight, and let’s be honest –