Calico no more

The past week has been filled with shock, excitement, doubt, acceptance, confusion, and reflection. Yes, we are once again talking about hair.

I got my second notable haircut of the Going Gray Adventure last week. Patti and I discussed all sorts of options about what next to do with my calico hair. Typically I wouldn’t have been sitting in her chair quite so soon. I’m hoping that I might be able to counter the chaos of my technicolor hair by having a controlled, more maintained hair style. So every four weeks it is. At least for now.

I told Patti I was pretty sure I didn’t want to do a super short pixie cut to hasten the adventure. I accidentally had one of those when I asked Rob to cut my hair. It was about 15 years ago and I was post-op enough after a back surgery to need a haircut but not post-op enough to be able to withstand the spinal torture of leaning back in the shampoo bowl and sitting for more than 15 minutes.

I was certain Rob would do a fine job, as my beloved roommate Zeke – a History major with no cosmetology education – had fabulously cut my hair numerous times in college.

However, as I emerged from Mr. Rob’s Coif and Cut looking like GI Jane, I immediately had newfound respect and admiration for Zeke’s innate clipper skills. I also discovered that my head is unattractively asymmetrical. I wore a baseball hat for three months.

So fearing a repeat of that memorable hair don’t, I told Patti she could do whatever she wanted with my hair except for a pixie cut.

Guess what I have?

I had no idea that dark patch was in the back.
It's also interesting that my natural color is
so much darker than my Truffle.

It’s not Patti’s fault. As she started scissoring away chunks of Garnier Truffle #50, we both got rather excited about the emerging silvers and whites. I told her to keep going and before I was really ready, I was staring at a version of myself I have never seen before. One week later, I’m still not very used to her.

Thankfully I don't have exceptionally
pointy ears.

Yep, no hiding it now!

Admittedly, the cut is better than Mr. Rob’s version 15 years ago. Something about training and licensing. But it’s still waaaay shorter and waaaaay grayer than I’m accustomed to seeing surrounding my face.

The wisps of Truffle left on the tips will probably be gone in 3 more weeks.
In other news, we look like we match now!  

I’ve taken my look out on tour. The day after I saw Patti, I got on a plane and spent almost a week surprising Rob’s family. To be honest, I was a bit nervous. Los Angeles is not a culture that heartily embraces women aging, gracefully or otherwise. And I always feel less primped and coiffed and pulled together when I’m surrounded by SoCal women who have a lot more knowledge and investment in appearance-type concerns.

I only caught a couple of stares from sun-kissed strangers. Who knows, maybe I just had some Double Double caught in my teeth and my hair wasn’t even noticed.

Gratefully, I got a number of very kind hair comments and supportive smiles from family and friends…after the shock wore off. My mother-in-law, bless her, even seemed disappointed towards the end of our visit when I said I plan to grow my hair out and not keep the pixie. With love, she told me I looked elfish and gamine (I had to Google it), referencing Audrey Hepburn. That was a benevolent stretch but still filled me with appreciation for her kind encouragement.

I also found myself feeling more attractive and feminine with my contacts instead of my glasses. Unfortunately, that also meant I had trouble reading menus and texts and hotel bills since I really need bifocals and it seemed ill advised to take my contacts out and put them on the top of my head while reading something up close. Today I’m back to glasses. Because, well, typing.

Having been home for a few days, I’m starting to get used to that look of wide-eyed, I-don’t-know-what-to-say, I’m-not-sure-I-like-it look on friends’ faces when they first see me. One of the kids in Youth Group last night expertly summed it up by exclaiming, “I didn’t expect it to be SO WHITE!”

I have moments when I’m totally digging the new look and feeling sassy and am totally embracing being my own penguin.

My parents bought me this print when I was in high school.
Its caption says "Dare to be Different."
I've tried my best to live up to it.

I love the excitement of this week-by-week evolution that at times has felt something like a caterpillar emerging into a butterfly.

But there are other moments when I am utterly mystified by the caught reflection in a window or a tablet screen. I see this person with short white hair and I don’t know who she is. But then I look at photos of myself from just a few months ago and all I see is synthetically dark brown hair that doesn’t seem to fit either.

I wasn’t bargaining for an identity crisis when I started this little adventure! But I’m starting to think that’s a foundational part of this experience…examining and defining who I really am on the doorstep of 50.