Roots

Ok, I am going to make an admission- I dye my hair.
It's pure vanity, I know, but the gray is spreading faster than crab grass across my scalp.
I didn't inherit the good hair genes, I got the early graying ones.

I went blonde in high school. My hair had been a reddish- blonde, but I had moved to Florida and wanted my hair to match my Hawaiian tropic tan. I tried lemon juice, and Sun In. I achieved modest results. The Florida sunshine and the chlorine in the pool did more to lighten my tresses than the dyes.

Pregnancy made me swear off hair dyes for a while, but then I found some gray hairs. Now the war had begun in earnest. Professional blonde highlights covered those few stray, grays.

As I entered my 40's many emotions were stirring deep within me. My life felt as fake as my false blonde hair. I slowly peeled back the layers of camouflage, painstakingly uncovering my authentic self. I was ready to get back to my roots.

I went to my hairdresser and asked her to bring me back to my original shade. She was shocked and refused to do something "so drastic." I thanked her,removed the cape, and went home. Two hours later I emerged with a beautiful mane of shining red locks.

Looking in the mirror I saw for the first time in twenty years, the girl I had left behind.

Aging Gracefully

"You get old when you stop being interested. You get old when you don’t create any more." - Della Reese

It's a slow and lazy Sunday morning. Slow because of how long it seems to take my body these days to stretch out all of the kinks and weird pains that seem to come from nowhere. I need a hefty shot of caffeine before my brain can engage. Welcome to the 50's!

I'm in my fiftieth year, which does not officially end until the tail end of December. I have been preparing to enter the next decade for the last few years; learning to say my age without wincing, and repeating the mantra, "you look damn good for your age."

When I got back into teaching after a 16 year hiatus, it was a slight shock to realize I was no longer one of the "young ones." Working with a staff of very young women (think fresh out of college), and a boss ten years my junior has an eye-opener, but also a blessing.

I have had to catch up on the newest trends in teaching, yet I do not feel the same pressure to "prove myself" that I had in my 20's. I am often the person that my boss has looked to for advice and support as we muddled through our first year.

But being older isn't the same as being old. I have continued to grow; to challenge myself to learn new things. I'm learning to accept my physical limitations and some mental ones too!

I am determined to age gracefully, but I refuse to grow old.