Day 20 - Grey
“To be grey or not to be grey, that is the question.”
I know this is a shallow and unimportant question in the scheme of the global pandemic, and I do feel guilty for asking the question. My thoughts are always with the NHS and all key workers and I am in total admiration for all they do. I cannot comprehend how difficult life is for these wonderful people and right now, and every day, I count my blessings that “all I have to do is stay at home”. While it’s not easy when all my beloved work has been cancelled or rearranged, I do know I am one of the lucky ones who just has to do our bit by staying at home.
However, writing this blog is, for me, a way of voicing my thoughts and trying to stay positive, and if at all possible, trying to bring some kind of lightheartedness to this madness. So please don’t judge me for writing about my hair. I actually don’t care about it to be honest. Anyone who knows me will admit my hair always looks shit at the best of times. And anyone who doesn’t know me will notice on our first meeting that I really should visit a hairdressers ASAP. So when I write about it, it is simply to try and inject a bit of humour in to a desperate and scary situation...
So, grey or not? I have a ton of hair dye in the house (it was the only thing I panic bought when the lockdown was looking likely, who cares about bog roll and pasta?!) but I’m getting to the point where I’m actually ashamed to look in the mirror, let alone actually leave the house. But I have been going out for “daily exercise” and “essential shopping” and just praying I won’t see anyone I know. Even though I desperately want to. If I do see anyone, at least I am safe in the knowledge we will be at enough of a “safe distance” that they will not notice my roots. But am I really ready to go grey? Will I look like a total tit after lockdown? Do I care? I’m beginning to think I might. When lockdown first happened I felt a weird sense of being in some kind of secure bubble. However scary the situation was, I felt completely shut away from the outside world. Because I was told to be so. Possibly for months. It almost felt like I could do whatever I wanted because there was no one in person to judge me. Hence this blog. Which I would never have shared in an ordinary world. But now the initial shock of lockdown is fading, and I’m getting used to the situation, my initial plan to “come out of this a different person” isn”t quite as appealing... Do I want to be a different person? Not really, I think I’m OK. Do I want to improve myself? Of course, but I always have wanted that. Do I want to keep dying my hair? No. Do I want a cool short silver hairstyle? Yes! Will this happen? No. Why? Because I am old and I have a fat face and head. Do I look a tit with grey roots? Yes. Can I get through this difficult grey root time? I don’t know....
(Pic is from the beautiful Flamborough Head)
I know this is a shallow and unimportant question in the scheme of the global pandemic, and I do feel guilty for asking the question. My thoughts are always with the NHS and all key workers and I am in total admiration for all they do. I cannot comprehend how difficult life is for these wonderful people and right now, and every day, I count my blessings that “all I have to do is stay at home”. While it’s not easy when all my beloved work has been cancelled or rearranged, I do know I am one of the lucky ones who just has to do our bit by staying at home.
However, writing this blog is, for me, a way of voicing my thoughts and trying to stay positive, and if at all possible, trying to bring some kind of lightheartedness to this madness. So please don’t judge me for writing about my hair. I actually don’t care about it to be honest. Anyone who knows me will admit my hair always looks shit at the best of times. And anyone who doesn’t know me will notice on our first meeting that I really should visit a hairdressers ASAP. So when I write about it, it is simply to try and inject a bit of humour in to a desperate and scary situation...
So, grey or not? I have a ton of hair dye in the house (it was the only thing I panic bought when the lockdown was looking likely, who cares about bog roll and pasta?!) but I’m getting to the point where I’m actually ashamed to look in the mirror, let alone actually leave the house. But I have been going out for “daily exercise” and “essential shopping” and just praying I won’t see anyone I know. Even though I desperately want to. If I do see anyone, at least I am safe in the knowledge we will be at enough of a “safe distance” that they will not notice my roots. But am I really ready to go grey? Will I look like a total tit after lockdown? Do I care? I’m beginning to think I might. When lockdown first happened I felt a weird sense of being in some kind of secure bubble. However scary the situation was, I felt completely shut away from the outside world. Because I was told to be so. Possibly for months. It almost felt like I could do whatever I wanted because there was no one in person to judge me. Hence this blog. Which I would never have shared in an ordinary world. But now the initial shock of lockdown is fading, and I’m getting used to the situation, my initial plan to “come out of this a different person” isn”t quite as appealing... Do I want to be a different person? Not really, I think I’m OK. Do I want to improve myself? Of course, but I always have wanted that. Do I want to keep dying my hair? No. Do I want a cool short silver hairstyle? Yes! Will this happen? No. Why? Because I am old and I have a fat face and head. Do I look a tit with grey roots? Yes. Can I get through this difficult grey root time? I don’t know....
(Pic is from the beautiful Flamborough Head)
Comments
Post a Comment