One of the things I’ve recently noticed about my personal aging process, is that my coloring has changed. My hair, eyes and skin tone have all evolved into new and unexpected shades.
I think the most dramatic alteration for me to accept and internalize has been the gradual change in my hair color. I am a natural redhead – and, for every pervy guy who ever asked me that crass question throughout the years, yes, the drapes and rug matched. And, no, I didn’t find the attempt at misogynistic humor funny. At all.
My hair was always a vivid shade of red, just beyond the darkest of strawberry blondes. I was called, much to my annoyance, carrot top, rusty or red, frequently as a young person. That’s changed, though. Now I am most often described as blonde, a fact that will probably forever feel foreign to me.
Being a redhead has always been a big part of my identity. Redheads have a reputation for being fiery and I like to think of myself as being easily identifiable as a spunky and lively person. My hair has been a defining feature for most of my life and having it gradually fading into a silvery blonde, is something I find to be disconcerting.
I’m not yet ready to fade away and be invisible.
On the positive side of aging, there has been an interesting, perhaps related, thing, happening. As my hair has become less vibrant lighter, my eyes have finally, after years of being a noncommittal shade of hazel, decided to lean into the green side of things.
While I was in Ireland last month, attention was brought to the “lovely shade of green” of my eyes 3 separate occasions. One of those compliments actually came from my youngest son, so you know it must be a thing in terms of being remarkable.
I’ve always wanted to have green eyes, so I’m delighted and will be enjoying this state of affairs for as long as it lasts.
My skin, previously very pale and liberally dusted with freckles, has become more of a monotone. My freckles have lost their edges and now blend into my skin causing my overall coloring to be a pinkish beige. I don’t feel quite a ghostly white as I once did.
While unpacking my warm weather clothing, I decided to try each of my summer dresses on to make certain everything still fits and suits me. There was a linen dress, in a shade of salmon that I’ve happily worn for a number of years, that fit my body just fine, but no longer works with my coloring. The dress completely washes me out causing my hair and skin to appear drained of any vibrancy.
It went into the consignment pile immediately.
I’m finding this unexpected chameleon state of being humorously disconcerting. I never imagined fundamental and identifiable parts of my appearance would gradually and independently change. It seems time most certainly does not stand still.
The changes I’m observing, however, go beyond mere external attributes and description.
Since retiring, my days are structured differently and my calendar is truly a personal one. This is decidedly different from my previous commitment to an academic calendar for more than 50 years of my existence.
I’m occupying myself with restaurant work that is satisfying and comes with flexibility, thanks to the indulgence of the team at Nicole’s, making a schedule each month that allows me opportunities to travel.
I’m reading lots of books and day dreaming about eventual long term housesits in Ireland or France or Italy or Spain or any other place where I want to be to experience life in a way that is different from I’ve known.
And I’m looking at everything in my life and considering what to keep, what to eliminate, what has faded away, what has deepened and intensified and where I want to be – living my life in true color.
DelSo 