Someone told me after I started growing out my grays that naturally gray hair was the new feminist frontier. While it's nice to be considered out front--you've got to be kidding! Don't we have more important things to fight for?
My point is that one's hair is one's choice. It makes me happy not to see a stylist every month and pay money that could be better spent--on music, for example. And there's a touch of red left, nestled in the gray. But if you want to dye your hair brown, or blonde, or purple, that's up to you.
Cordoba tenor ukulele, low G
They told me, “don’t do it—you’ll look ten years older
Try a little more blonde, or a highlight or three.”
But I’m a born redhead, and blonde isn’t me.
I’m letting it go, I’m feeling so free
That hairdresser’s chair has no hold over me
I’m growing out the gray and I like what I see
Maybe your job says cut it high and tight
Maybe your god says hide it out of sight
But if that isn’t you, it don’t matter what you do.
There’s a woman, kids call her Grandma Rainbow
An artist whose quilts use the whole color wheel
They match her hair: fuchsia, purple, and teal.
Does your hair make you happy? If it’s short or it’s long
Does it make you feel good, does it make you feel strong?
Mirror, mirror on the wall, your hair, your call
Mirror mirror on the wall, my hair, my call.
©2019 Diane Greening