As I navigate the landscape of adulthood, there are several truths I hold dear:
- Whether or not a higher power exists is up for debate, but the invention of streaming services like Netflix is nothing short of divine.
- Despite the orange stains it leaves on fingers and the judgment it invites, there’s no denying that Cheetos are irresistibly delicious.
- Going to bed with unresolved anger only leads to waking up in a worse mood.
- I’ve decided that as I age, I will embrace my hair’s transition to gray.
Reflecting on that statement, it seems a bit premature since I’ve already begun to notice my hair’s gradual shift towards silver. My once-dark locks now feature a distinguished streak of gray, hinting at a future that will soon be a full salt-and-pepper affair. Surprisingly, I look forward to this change without any trepidation.
Years ago, I met a man named Diego—who I am convinced was my personal hair guardian angel—who helped prepare me for this transition. When I was a teenager struggling with my naturally curly hair, I felt the pressure to conform to the beauty standards of the early 2000s. Back then, the options for curly-haired girls like myself were limited to either damaging my hair with chemicals or sporting the wet-look hairstyles that were all the rage.
In a moment of desperation, I opted for a flat iron, only to find my hair rebelling against me more fiercely than ever. On one fateful day, my mother, worried about my attempts to tame my locks, scheduled me an appointment at a high-end salon that specialized in curly hair.
That’s where I met Diego. His salon was the epitome of luxury for my young self, complete with mocktails and a relaxing head massage. However, everything changed when the stylist washing my hair discovered my first gray strand. The collective gasp from the staff felt dramatic, as they began to speculate about remedies. But Diego, cool and confident, quickly intervened, declaring, “Promise me you won’t dye that. You’ve earned it.”
Diego was extraordinary—bald, flamboyant, and always in leather. To me, he embodied the essence of cool in the 2000s. Although I made that promise, I wasn’t entirely convinced I’d keep it. Over the years, I’ve learned to embrace my identity, imperfections and all. This journey has not been without struggles; I’ve faced challenges that have caused me to gain weight and wrestle with my hair’s unruliness. Yet, each year, I realize Diego’s wisdom: I’ve earned the right to embrace my natural self.
Today, as I witness my hair aging alongside me, I feel a sense of pride. I intend to honor my promise to Diego. If I approach this transition with confidence, I believe the world will respond positively. However, if it doesn’t, that’s on them.
I respect the choices of women who opt to change their appearance in any way they see fit. As a proponent of personal choice, I engage in self-care practices that suit me, from grooming to makeup. Just as I support those who choose to dye their hair or undergo cosmetic procedures, I invite others to consider the beauty of embracing their natural selves.
Celebrating our natural appearance can be a challenge, made more difficult by societal pressures. Right now, I am committing to letting my hair go gray. I may not always love the process, and I might even experiment with temporary colors for fun. Regardless, I’m ready to take on this journey, and I encourage anyone feeling similarly to join me. Together, we can embrace this natural evolution.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, I share my journey towards embracing gray hair, inspired by an influential stylist named Diego who encouraged me to accept my natural beauty. As I confront societal pressures about appearance, I commit to celebrating my aging hair and invite others to consider the beauty of aging gracefully.
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