Forty-something days into self-isolation and the hair jokes are running rampant. Beards, mustaches, hair needing a cut, bad haircuts that have been undertaken and roots – the dreaded roots that have bottled blondes worried about becoming brunettes and brunettes worried about lighter colours growing in.

My own locks are long enough that a month or two without a trim isn’t noticeable – and I was fortunate enough to have gone to my trusty hairdresser just before the world changed. So the most noticeable change for me is the silver halo I’m now beginning to sport.

In my case though, the glitter in my hair isn’t bothering me – at least not much. To understand why, you have to back up a bit.

About ten years ago, I was at a conference and I had the chance to have new professional work pictures taken. It was a great shot. I loved my smile, my eyes looked bright, and my wardrobe chic. But then there was my hair. While the style suited me, the colour was a shock. There was way more grey in it than I had thought, and I wasn’t simply wasn’t ready for it. I was in my early forties and I was not prepared to look “old”.

But I’m cheap, so drug store bottled colour it was, and I kept my tresses a rich brown for a long time. Approaching 50, I asked my hairdresser if I needed to start thinking about a more professional dye job, as I could see the white strands starting to multiply around my temples. She assured me I didn’t, so box colouring continued.

But over the next year or so, the multiplication continued and the dye job seemed to last less time. I grew tired of the artifice. I didn’t care to fight against Mother Nature any more.  If I was meant to be grey, so be it. 

But how on earth to start? And when? With a planned absence from work this spring, I decided to take the plunge. Around Christmas time, I dyed my hair one last time. All was good thorough January. In February, as the new growth started to come in, I resorted to covering the roots with a touch-up spray to keep everything under wraps. Of course, March sent the world spinning and by the middle of the month instead of being away from work, I was just working away from the office. Through video calls, my colleagues are getting more of a front row seat to this transformation than I’d planned.

It’s been interesting so far. I’m not as grey as I was afraid of – at least in some lights. Occasionally, I see my face in a mirror, or a video call in certain lights and get a bit of a shock. But there’s no blatant skunk strip, and the silver seems to be almost entirely going to frame my face. It just might be alright!  But my hair’s long, so the journey’s just begun. I imagine it will take a good year to grow out all the way.

Now if only there was something I could do about the aging skin on my neck!

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