the girl in the mirror
conforming for survival
After years of letting my grays run wild, yesterday I dyed my hair, and now I can’t recognize who I see in the mirror.
A few years ago I stopped dying the gray streak of hair that was forming on the side of my head. I originally stopped dying it because I was too lazy to go through the tedious process of dying it again and every 6-8 weeks for the rest of my life. Also, there was no way I was going to pay $100+ dollars every other month to have it done at a salon. Not only am I too broke, but I’m also too cheap.
Over the past few years, that gray streak started spreading, and one day I was a little taken aback when looking at a photo of myself and realizing that half my head was covered in grays.
Even though it shocked me a little bit, I still didn’t dye my hair. Mainly because I still was very broke and a little lazy, but also, I kind of liked not conforming to beauty standards. Even though I wondered what friends and family and school moms in pick up line thought of my gray hair, I honestly didn’t really give a fuck.
I remember one of my friends applauded me for not dying my hair, sharing that she considered it too, until her husband responded, “So, you just want to give up?”
I imagine that’s what some people might think of me. That I just gave up, that I don’t put effort into my appearance. And, while it’s true that I put minimal effort into beauty rituals and OOTD’s, I didn’t feel like letting my hair go gray meant I had given up. It’s the opposite, actually. I felt like my gray hair showed that I was not giving in, not giving in to what other people thought was acceptable, not giving in to the pressure to look young. It turned into a point of pride and a F you to a society that pressures us to look a certain way to be considered beautiful.
Then I bought a box of hair dye.
I have a job interview in a few days and I really, really want this job. To be honest, I don’t really want any job, but I really, really need a job. Our financial situation is beyond dire. And if I need a job, this is the job I want.
I’ve been interviewing for jobs for a year, off and on. And even though I am overqualified for most of the jobs I applied for, and had amazing interviews, I never got the jobs. And part of me started to wonder if it’s ageism. I obviously don’t know if that’s true, but I decided to dye my hair because I’m desperate for this job and don’t want to take any chances of being discriminated against because I “look old.”
As I was dying my hair, I wondered if I would love it, if it would make me feel younger and more confident. Interestingly, I don’t love it. Surprisingly, I miss my gray hair. I honestly didn’t expect that. I mean, I was totally fine having gray hair, but who wouldn’t want to look and feel younger?
Part of me wonders if it’s not just about rebelling against beauty standards. As I’m typing this, I’m starting to think that dying my hair is an outward sign of what’s happening within. For the past many years, my gray hair has become part of my identity. For the past ten years, I lived my dream of being my own boss. Now, dying my hair and interviewing for jobs, it feels like I’m losing part of myself. Looking at myself in the mirror, no more grays, I don’t know who that person is anymore.