Raising the White Flag

I surrender.

To the white.

Or to the gray.

Or to the salt and pepper?

All through my younger years I declared that I would never color my hair.  "I think gray hair is beautiful," I pronounced.  I did...and I do.  The problem was that I started graying at age 35, and I had a two-year-old at the time.  Too much too soon, I thought.  

Then came the day at Arby's.  I was out alone, running errands, and stopped for lunch.  A young mother (only slightly younger than me, I might add) and her little daughter came in and sat at a nearby table.  I noticed that the little girl kept looking at me.  Then she said, "It's Nana, Mommy!"  

Her mother told her that it was not Nana, but she couldn't be convinced.  "It's Nana," she insisted. 

Trying to mollify the situation, the mother gushed in her sweetest voice, "She's pretty like Nana."

I must confess that at that moment I disliked the placating mother and her innocent child, and I held a grudge against Nana for having gray hair.  I bought some Nice and Easy and returned to my original dark brown, a distinctly un-Nana-like color. 

Fast forward around seventeen years.  I am now a grandmother of eight.  I must color my hair more often as there is more gray.  I still think gray hair is beautiful.  Even if it is on my head.  

I am ready to raise the white flag.

Hair evolution (l to r):  dark brown; "camouflaging" highlights; more "camouflage"

When I told my stylist that I was going gray, I told her that my biggest qualm was looking like a skunk.  She recommended that I put in highlights to ease the transition.  Tuesday, I had the second (and final) stage of highlights put in, and there's no going back.  

And now that I am being bold, I just might get my ears pierced!