50 Shades of...

If there is one thing that can strike fear in the heart of any woman, anywhere in the world, it is grey hair.

You only have to take a wander through the colour section at any store to see what a booming business it is to cover up any sign of that shade.

Genetically speaking, it was destined to happen.  My earliest memories of our older generation was a collection of dignified white and grey-haired ladies and gents. Not too many of the blue-rinse set. And not a single purple dye job to be seen. Not in our family any way.

My mother, the proud owner of classic titian tresses, was just one of the clan with a colour so rich it could never be reproduced by a bottle.

Red heads have been identified since around 1510 in their various forms: auburn, copper, strawberry blonde, ginger...and comes with a collection of nicknames, of varying shades of compliments too: Carrot top, Ranga, Ginger Ninja, and in Australia colloquially called "Blue". As we do.

Aside from being the rarest form of natural hair colour in the world, red heads have a lot of other interesting features: studies have supposedly shown that they are more tolerant of pain and require more anaesthetic to knock 'em out in the surgical theatre; the pale skin that comes with it makes them more susceptible to sunburn and skin cancer, yet gives them fewer wrinkles in their old age as a result; red heads are also traditionally known to have a temper to match their fiery tops, but there's no evidence to support this- unless you count the passionate temperaments of the people most often linked to that particular hair colour- the Celts.

Which brings me back to our clan. The recessive redheaded gene crops up at least every generation, and those of us who aren't red all over have natural highlights that money just can't buy.  I learnt this a long time ago when my oldest sister was in her apprentice hairdresser days and was determined to make me blonde. My date with the peroxide bottle just brought out the ginger underneath and I ended up having to go black to cover the mess we made.

That, and buy a few hats.

Now considering the average adult human head is home to about 120,000 hairs ... when they start to turn against their owner, that's a whole lotta grief!

So when genetics came to play and the grey turned up one day on top of mum, she decided to grow old gracefully and let nature - rather than hair colour- take its course.

As we've discussed here before, times have changed in just a single generation. These days the only shades of grey that are totally acceptable is the series of bestsellers by EL James. If it's being read in bed, it's ok. If it's on your head it's nowhere near as thrilling.

Because if you buy the hype, the hue of your hair has a lot to do with being 'hot'. Or not.

But while men get away with the Silver Fox tag, very much so, and you'll still see newsreaders and the like with grey hairs glinting in the studio lights. Not so the female offsider. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the age ratio is getting greater between the fellas at the desk compared with the ladies alongside. Seems as soon as they need a touch up on top, they're replaced by a younger model.

In fact the only shades of grey allowed on prime time TV belong to blokes.

Which is one of the reasons radio appeals to me so much. Doesn't matter about your hair colour, hell you can even show up in your pyjamas if needs be, as long as you show up! Dead Air is not a good sound, in any frequency.

And do not get me started on the schoolyard parade!

No wonder I'm so partial to hats.

Especially when I made the comment to another mother that I was considering giving up the ghost and going the way of my mum, letting my colour come through however it likes. Her response: "Oh no- Never give up!"  Mind you, this was the same mum who commented on how grey my Beloved has become around the temples in the years since kids joined us: "What have you done to him??" (Hey, he's grey for the same reason I am...the aforementioned kids!)  Funny how there was no suggestion he reach for the dye bottle. 

Looks like he's on his way to Silver Foxism himself. Better hope he isn't in the market for a younger model.

So it seems I, along with women the world over, will be keeping the hair colour companies in business for a while yet.

Then for the times I can't afford a dye job, I'll be supporting hat makers too.

And just quietly, I think EL James et al have given grey a shady reputation, in more ways than one.

Jx

©2012

Ageing Disgracefully

I really shouldn’t read magazines.

Sure they’re a good time waster on occasion, and provide plenty of fodder for those who like to comment on other people’s lives (let’s face it, who hasn’t enjoyed that particular pastime from time to time?).

Unlike what the man in your life has told you, most members of the feminine gender do read the articles. And that’s what gets me in most trouble.

For example, I recently read a survey about what age is best. Not surprisingly, it was around 25 years. The reasons included: you’re past the teen angst (and hopefully acne as well), school and study is behind you, kids are still ahead, and you’re making fairly decent money - most of which is a disposable income. Life is good.

But another study showed at what point you reach your peak.

27.

Yep, even before your third decade you have officially hit and passed the prime of your life. The ageing process picks up speed, and gravity kicks in.

Moreso than my 30th, and even with 40 fast approaching, I remember really hating turning 27. And now I know why.

As I recall, it was around that time I was finally comfortable with my body, only to discover it was about to start heading south. Fabulous.

It was also the not-so-magical milestone of my first grey hair.

I was so unhappy about it, I wrote a poem, which caused much mirth and merriment to everyone else it hadn’t happened to at the time (not laughing so loudly now though are they, hey). Personally, I blame my maternal DNA- a good number of mum’s family went grey quite early on. (My eldest sister lays the blame on the same ancestry for her dodgy eyes, and my middle sister swears her “slopey shoulders” came from that gene pool too.)

When I found that unfortunate follicle, I went to great pains to style my hair around and over it, and hope that it didn’t peep out of the otherwise brunette bunch at inopportune moments. I kept it pretty quiet too.

At least I didn’t make the same mistake as my sister. One time at work she had to use the bathroom, and decided to give the hair and lippy a quick check before returning to her post. As females are well aware, fluorescent lighting is more our foe than our friend, and there shining brightly in the insulting illumination was a new addition. Now, since my sis is one of those people who likes to share their life story (even at first meeting), she left the ladies’ room and declared to everyone in earshot: “I just found a grey hair!!”

Consider the setting.

She had just left the toilets.

I bet you can draw the same conclusion that her colleagues did in response to her grand announcement…

And so, in addition to her newfound grey hair, she had one very red face.

I have it on very good authority that the day you do find a grey hair down there, Father Time (sadistic so-and-so that he is) is ticking real quick from then on. (Just quietly, that particular moment won’t be marked on my calendar when it rolls around!) Depending on just how fast he ticks, you might even find yourself in the market for a merkin. But I digress.

These days I have to admit I long for the time I had just one little grey.

It’s true what they say, stress and pregnancy (not to mention the kids themselves) can change the pigment and mobilise the grey army marching up on top. Unless I can find room both in the schedule and the family budget for a trip to the hair salon, I now need to be a whole lot more creative in my styling to hide the traitorous tresses (I also own a large number of hats).

I’m happy to report though, I found a little article in ‘New Scientist’ which claims that having that certain hue in your hair might protect you from cancer; since that dreadful disease also runs in our family, that’s gotta be a good thing, right?!

And while we’re on the subject of good news: ‘Health Plus’ magazine surveyed its readership and found that women in their 40s are apparently having the best sex of their lives.

Well now, that’s something to look forward to.

There’s gotta be some ups to go with the downs (pun fully intended).

Yes, we might have to age, but who says it has to be gracefully?

Jx
©2009