I might have been the only one who believed all of it you and me like blood our lives intertwined forever we were instead inane prone to rapid disintegration in the place of a broken memory carefully preserved painful precious there is nothing a nuisance a hairline fracture on a crystal pitcher dirty dishes piled in the kitchen sink what a waste loving you turned out to be
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Patience is an alien quality does not swim in my blood does not pool around me in the mornings I have to coax it breathe on it to keep alive the little bit that I have try it on play dress up practice walking with it so that it looks genuine I want to perfect it I wish I could take a daily dosage a patience vitamin it would get stuck in my throat
Instead of staring at the universe straight on I will squint from now on stand upside down I want to be deliberate when I distort my view of it because I know that by purposefully jumbling what I perceive it will be no less accurate that when I claim to see things clearly
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I’m going gray.
I’m not sure what to do about it.
I never thought these two sentences were worthy of a blog entry but once I started poking around on the subject I realized that To Color Or Not To Color was a big, politically charged issue with far-reaching, philosophical implications.
Consider that the first book that comes up on the subject on Amazon is “Going Gray: What I Learned about Beauty, Sex, Work, Motherhood, Authenticity, and Everything Else That Really Matters”. And that there are a ton of whole blogs – not just entries – dedicated to this. I even found an article in Time Magazine titled “The War Over Going Gray”.
Yikes.
And I thought it was just about hair color.
I have never dyed my hair (except for a single unfortunate highlighting incident in the mid 80’s which did not seem particularly unfortunate at the time.)
While there are exceptions (and it’s quite possible I might be one of them), I think women who go gray look beautiful. My mother-in-law is a shining example – she has never colored her hair and is gorgeous and classy. And, what about Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada?
Besides liking the look, I feel quite reluctant about spending valuable energy on a battle I already know I will lose.
I was fairly certain the matter of my own hair color was up to me, until my usually only moderately pushy hairstylist was so insistent on “doing something about it”, even after I said several times that I wasn’t ready, that I got up and walked out.
Because, come on. Esthetics aside, shouldn’t it come down to a woman’s right to choose?
Photo: The Devil Wears Prada
Go ahead keep a journal write the date neatly on the top left hand side of the page take a thousand photographs and organize them into albums save them in chronological order catch it all with your new video camera despite your desperate efforts to freeze time to hold on to make sure things don't slip by the past is not retrievable
