You've Got to Have Guts to Go Gray!

Dirty dishwater is how I described my hair when I was young.

My mother used to set my hair with rags to make the curls.

Then as a teenager, it turned to brunette.

I was 15 years old.

Over the years I wore my hair short, long, curly, straight, and everything in-between.

Somewhere around my 30th birthday, I saw some tell-tale grey strands. In those days, let’s say about 45 years ago, gray was not tolerated. We now had Clairol: Only your hairdresser knows for sure. So I was told by EVERYONE to have streaks put in. That’s how it all started. Streaks, just a few streaks, more streaks, even more streaks, until I had a head full of streaks. There was so much gray, I had to go to the hairdresser every 3 weeks for 3 hours to get my hair dyed. Not only did it take hours out of my life, it took days, it took weeks and in the end I didn’t even like the color!

I hated it. I mean you could tell I was dying my hair. Who was I fooling? There had to be another way.

Do you think I’m fooling anyone that my hair is dyed?

I was going to go gray. I didn’t care what anyone said. And trust me everyone had an opinion and the opinion was DON’T DO IT!

Strangely enough, my epiphany started on a very snowy Christmas eve up in the mountains of Sun Valley, Idaho.

Here we are at Christmas in Sun Valley. Always the best.

I walked into our friends’ annual Christmas party, carrying my dessert contribution for our joint dinner. I turned around and saw my dear-formerly-red-headed-friend… with gray hair. I loved it. I mean I really loved it.

Her doctors had asked her to stop dying her hair for medical reasons. I never knew her exact illness, but there she was with grey hair and it was gorgeous. Such a soft color. Her face looked radiant surrounded by the fluff of her gray hair.

That was it! I decided to let my hair go gray.

But first I asked my hairdresser about going natural. Don’t we all ask our hairdresser first? She emphatically said no, you don’t have enough gray and it will just look blah.

I asked my husband (now you must understand that my husband is the most supportive of me in anything I do or want to do) but he thought I was too young. (Yes you did, Honey!) But let it be said, he changed his mind once he realized that’s what I wanted. He was 100 percent in favor of what ever I desired. I told you he was supportive.

Now when I took the plunge, no one was gray in the whole of Los Angeles, probably, the whole West Coast. It would be like becoming a unicorn or a white rhino. I didn’t care. I loved the soft look of gray hair.

The easy part for me was that I already had short hair. But I cut it shorter. Real short, because it takes time for the gray to fully grow out. So I wore a lot of hats.

I don’t have many photos of how I looked in those days because we didn’t have an iPhone and selfies weren’t invented. But here’s a photo from a trip to Hawaii that I just found in one of our photo albums.

It takes gut to show you this photo. Growing my hair out to it’s natural color in Hawaii.

Here I am in the early stages of growing my hair out. Not a pretty sight. I think I look terrible, my sweet husband strongly disagrees, but he loves me.

I like my hair long. I like my hair short. But, best of all I like my hair gray.

“It is not by the gray of the hair that one knows the age of the heart.”

• Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Here I am showing Ari Seth Cohen’s book “Advanced Love” which featured Bob and myself. Yes, that’s us on the visible page. Here I am with my gray hair 25 years after going grey. Haven’t looked back.

What about you? Are you intrigued by the idea of letting your hair go natural?

Gray hair scary?

Ready for it?

I’m happy to encourage you in whatever you want to do.