I found my first grey hair in high school. Actually I didn’t find it. Someone sitting behind on the school bus told me about it and I told them to pull it out. I was about 16. By my late 20s I had a thick streak of grey hair across my forehead. By my mid-30s there were grey hairs on the sides too. I wasn’t too bothered about it, until… an Oprah show. It changed my mind. I was getting close to 40, an ancient age it seemed at the time. This particular Oprah show was about looking younger, and dying your hair was the best way to do that. I remember listening to the stories, about women in their 40s who were offered senior discounts because they had grey hair. They seemed downtrodden and depressed, until the make-overs were revealed. With their freshly dyed and coiffed hair they owned the stage. They were positively glowing with confidence and beauty. So, I started dying my hair.

At first I did it myself. Then as the grey meandered around to the back of my head I got Dale to help. I have so much hair that I’d have to buy three boxes of colour. Then one day at a windy soccer game, I saw the home-dyed hair of a fellow soccer  mom. She had missed whole sections of her hair. I was horrified, for me! Because I was sure my hair looked just like hers. When I got home I made an appointment at a salon.

My normally medium brown hair with reddish highlights got lighter and lighter as it got greyer and greyer. And I hated seeing roots. When I was working I went every four weeks. Thankfully, for my budget, for a while I frequented a home salon, although that spoiled me because she was a fantastic colourist and a great friend. For the last ten or so years I’ve been a blonde. It took a while to get there so I never really thought about being blonde. I remember being shocked at being referred as “the blonde lady waiting for extra chairs” at the Hastings racetrack. And at a family reunion, my cousin didn’t recognize me, she thought I was a friend of the family!

My mom has beautiful white hair, and so does my older sister. And about three months ago, I decided it was time to phase out the blonde. I couldn’t when I was in a play, but I had planned to make the change last month. However, when I got to the salon my hairdresser had already made up my formula. So, I mentioned it to her at the end of my appointment. She didn’t try to talk me out of it. She played with my hair as she talked me through what we would do, next time, if I still wanted to do. It would take three hours so we had to plan for that. I said I had been thinking about it for a while and that I probably wouldn’t change my mind. I didn’t.

So, after three hours of cutting and thinning my hair, bleaching streaks and then toning them to match my roots, I found myself in front of a mirror. My hair looked quite light. But as my hairdresser dried and styled it, the grey hair became a little darker and the blonde hair made a scattered reappearance. My face seemed brighter and my eyes seemed bigger. I loved it from the get-go.

There is quite a divide about going grey. One friend asked me to promise her that I would never let my hair go grey. Her mom was in her 80s at the time and she was still dying her hair. I don’t think I made that promise, if I did, sorry. Most men don’t worry about going grey. In fact, it often adds to their stature as an elder statesman, it adds to their authority. I worked with a woman who had to get back into the workforce in her late 50s. She dyed her hair so that she appeared younger, afraid that no one would hire her at her age. Once she got a permanent position, she stopped colouring her hair. There are many opinions online about going grey, both for and against. Most of the women who stop colouring their hair report feeling freer, more empowered. However, few professional women do it, as grey hair on a woman just says old.

I’ve written before about how I’m striving to embrace my age and all that goes along with it. My decision mostly came down to this; it was getting harder and harder to plan my life around my roots. And after spending almost 30 years doing it, it was time for my hair to retire. Besides, all the cool kids are dying their hair grey. My hairdresser said she does it several times a week for young clients. Alrighty then. Now I’m like all the cool kids, finally.

This is the right decision for me. I’m lucky. I have thick, healthy hair, like my mom and sister. When the dyed colours, blonde and grey, are gone, my hair should be as gorgeous as theirs. I fully understand that other women might not ever want to go au naturel, and that’s fine. Hey, I’m all for choices on most decisions because what’s right for me might not be right for you, hence the need for them.

I feel fabulous. I feel like me. When I look in the mirror it looks right. It might be a little short right now but I can grow it. And if I need a boost, there are temporary colours, and brightly coloured extensions. I could even go rock and roll gramma and get a thick pink streak or two or ten. And if my grey hair makes a community theatre director feel that I look too old for a role, I can wear a wig. But my bubbly personality and my incredible acting skills will probably make them totally forget that I have grey hair.