Lately, it occurred to me that I may dress slightly different from other women my age. During my thirties I’ve been lucky enough to hear the sentence, “Wow, you don’t look your age at all." Being the, "modest," individual I am, I've always perceived this statement as a huge compliment. However recently, I’m starting to wonder if that’s the way this comment was intended.
I think I started heavily analyzing this after I found my first gray hair. I'd suspected it's presence for quite a while, but had refused to closely inspect my head for confirmation. I reasoned, from what I remember my hair is naturally a blondish brown color and in the right light my roots may be easily mistaken as having a grayish hue. You see, I believed I was going blonde instead of gray. Denial is a twisted thing people.
Finally, one day on my lunch break at work my guard was down due to the fact I was distracted by the impending afternoon’s tasks. I was in the restroom when I saw something shiny in my hair. I leaned forward and, “What the...?” “It wasn’t too late,” I thought. I was alone and apparently nobody else had seen the now obviously white, wiry beacon that was protruding from the front of my head. I quickly yanked it out, desperately inspecting it for blonde from all angles. “I wouldn’t mind being platinum,” I thought, sinking deeper into my delusion.
Since that fateful afternoon I’ve been forced to face reality. I wish I could state I did this subtly and with grace. However, that’s just not my style and after several phone calls to friends and family I was gently reminded that it’s normal for one to experience physical changes when reaching their late-thirties. Apparently, this is something that happens to everyone. I was told I will not always have the same color hair. This became extremely apparent the evening of my big, “incident,” when I forced my boyfriend to pick through my hair in search of additional evidence of my age. Unfortunately he found several examples of what I now refer to as blonde, to which his response was, “Welcome to the club Raynie!”
Considering this now, I suspect I'm not the first individual to notice the gray in my hair. Furthermore, I'm beginning to face the fact that there have been other changes in my appearance that hint at my increasing age. That’s why it recently dawned on me that when people state, “You don’t look your age!" it may actually mean, "You don't dress your age!" I must admit when I look at other women in their thirties I don’t see a lot of them sporting crappy band t-shirts and bell bottoms. Could it be that the classic formulas that always worked in the past for this girl are simply not appropriate for the present woman I’ve become? Instead of thrifting for kooky combinations should I be spending my hard earned money on perfectly coordinated ensembles at Ann Taylor LOFT? Oh my god, are people laughing at me for dressing exactly as I did when I was 23?!
Following these recent revelations I finally came to the simple conclusion that my hair is inevitably going to turn gray. I can’t stop time and remain the same person forever. Keeping this in mind, I can embrace the individual I know myself to be. This is a woman who enjoys thrifting for crazy shit that may, or may not, have a label on it that reads Ann Taylor. Admittedly, even if I was wearing a classy blazer from LOFT, I'm certain I'd have something like a Hello Kitty t-shirt on underneath it. I guess some things never do change. Now...more importantly, I wonder if it's really true that blondes have more fun? According to my boyfriend's recent inspection of my head I should be finding out very soon.
T Shirt: Purchased at the Fargo Record Fair
Purse: Vintage (Coach)
Necklace: Vintage (Avon)
Sunglasses: Cole Haan