Rock the Silver

Hair accessory change agents

I noticed a woman at work with a new do, shorter, and she said it was because she didn't have time to fuss with it anymore. I said I am following the Hillary Clinton model of growing it out so you can wear it up or in a pony. She said, yes, that was a good plan, but she didn't have the patience to grow her hair.

Well, I survived the growing out stage. It's long enough to wear up in a variety of ways, and I am enjoying it. Once again thinking about my bangs -- maybe growing them out, but I always change my mind. It's not a lack of patience. It seems like I always end up deciding I look better with bangs. I also like that they show deliberation -- bangs sort of demonstrate that I didn't forget to cut or dye my hair. I made a choice. However, bangs are higher maintenance, and maybe it's time for a change.

Another woman I noticed at work -- a youngish fast-tracker female attorney -- was wearing a claw clip. They are also called jaws. Hillary wears them, but she's the national icon of hair accessory change agents. I have never worn one to work due to some ridiculous rule I read somewhere about it being uncool. I have them at home, of course, as seen above on the left, because they are easy and securely hold hair out of the way. I can usually get a little height at the crown using a claw or jaw, and that's another plus in my book.

That said, I use my french twist comb as observed on the right, for my career-worthy updos. But dag, I love those claws. If they are good enough for a high-powered attorney, it seems like I ought to be able to get away with it. The barriers are only in my head.

In related news, blogging friend Lisa at Privilege strikes a lovely pose in a stunning biker jacket and what appears to be a scrunchie (or some variation thereof) in her long gray hair -- and I love it! Great inspiration, Lisa! Thank you.

After all that, I say we just do what we want. Let's be hair accessory change agents! I personally will be investing in a new claw clip (oops, my hair isn't brown anymore). Oh, and perhaps a scrunchie.

For stunning hair accessories, check out:

Stone Bridge (they don't ship to the U.S.)

France Luxe

Photographing gray hair

Of all the doubts I've had about myself throughout life, the one thing I have never questioned is choosing to rock the silver. I absolutely love my gray hair. But I admit that sometimes when I see a picture of myself, I am less than impressed.

How could I feel so positive and then have it all blown away by a photo? One could go into all the psychological ramifcations, but I think much of the problem is simpler and less introspective. Lighting! Most artificial lighting used in photography does not flatter our shiny silvers.

I had an executive portrait done at work that I posted on my LinkedIn profile. At first I was impressed by the professionalism of a studio shot. My skin looked amazing! But I kept going back to it, and it didn't look like me. My hair looked muddy, and my smile looked fake. I thought, who would want to connect with this person?

Everyone tells you to have a serious image on LinkedIn, but I decided it was more important for my energy to come through. And yes, for my hair to look good. I think my blog photo does all that. I took the photo myself with my tripod in my backyard. The blog photo is now my LinkedIn photo, and everytime I see my profile, I think, yes, I would want to connect with this person. Not that I am looking, but I would hire her, too!

The point is if you are already gray or thinking about going gray -- don't judge yourself by indoor pictures. Lighting is not always your friend. I don't think this means that everytime you are indoors, you look awful. When you are multi-dimensional and moving, the light will capture your colors and spirit.

But there's something about still photography that captures the worst and dulls gray hair. That's why they pay people lots of money to make models look amazing. Mere mortals have backyards and balconies. However, I have decided to invest in a better camera, so if I learn anything new, I'll come back and share the results.

Whatever color your hair is, take some time today to admire your inner beauty and know that all the goodness inside is reflected in your lovely self.

Waking up to orange juice

When I was diagnosed with advanced stage ovarian cancer in 1999, I made a conscious decision that I would not make my health all about what I could and couldn't eat. Some cancer survivors believe in eating a macrobiotic or other restrictive diet, but I have always maintained this strategy is really about the quest for control.

Controlling cancer with food? To me, that's like saying fairies dance on the lawn at night. It's possible, but we do seem to be unencumbered by evidence.

I made small changes in my diet I thought might enhance my overall health -- lots of water and no soda. Those were probably the big two, because I love to eat and wanted to live my life enjoying delicious food. Cheese is my downfall, but I don't eat fast food, and we only dine in restaurants occasionally.

Read this, and you will be inclined to think twice before ordering just any old thing. More than 3,000 calories in a simple pasta dish at the Cheesecake Factory. That's about the same amount of calories as a pound of butter! I cannot imagine what they did to fatten up this dish, but I can only assume other restaurants do the same thing.

So, OK, I want to be somewhat vigilant without getting crazy. Several months ago, I gave up orange juice, which I drank for years every morning. In fact, the only time I didn't drink it was during chemo, because it tasted awful. As soon as I was done with chemo, back to the OJ. I stopped when I mentioned my habit in a blog post, and a reader said, oh, you don't really want to drink orange juice.

You can Google how orange juice is made, or you can check out this article. Even the premium "not from concentrate" juice is not what you think. Yes, it is squeezed from oranges, but then all the oxygen and flavor is sucked out and replaced with tasty artificial flavorings made by perfume companies. Would it kill me to drink it? Of course not. I just thought, yuk, I don't need this.

But I do like something sweet and tart first thing in the morning, so I came up with a compromise that works for me. I juice six to eight lemons or limes with a chunk of fresh ginger root and then add simple syrup to sweeten. I freeze the juice in ice cube trays, which I put in a huge ziplock. In the morning, I pop out an ice cube, thaw it out in the microwave and add water. Delicious!

Today I am making my first batch of homemade yogurt. Wish me luck ...

A gentlewoman's guide to rebellion

A colleague said like it or don't, I should think of age as a threat when it comes to my career. I said yeah, I get it, but I'm only 57! When did that get old? Then I asked myself whether it would be any different if I were 60 or 65 or 70? Chronological age is irrelevant when you are talking about skills, talent, passion and drive.

Another colleague referenced a baby boomer executive who is -- gasp -- over 60, and she said, "Why is he still here? He should just go."

The fact is, there are a lot of us baby boomers in the workplace. We are getting older, and everyone else needs to get over it.

I embrace aging and happily tackle this topic, because I'm not scared. What I've tried to do is create a safe house on the internet for exploring this chapter of life with humor, honest introspection and critical observation.

What a naive daredevil! Sadly, I've come to realize that in most interpersonal exchanges, age probably needs to go in the bucket with race, religion and sexual orientation. Proceed with caution. Save it for people you trust. Choose your words carefully.

Here's where I went wrong. When my colleague mentioned the 60-something executive, I said, "I'm not far behind." I wanted to challenge her, like I dare you to tell me it's time to go. But I erred by making it personal. She thought I was younger, and I blew my cover. I was now different in her eyes. Old.

Are we at the beginning of a revolution? It feels like the 60s and 70s, when women and people of color accelerated the movement by crafting a language of pride and respect.

We said women are not girls. Ms. became a magazine and a title that did not identify us by our relationship to a man.

We said let's stop categorizing everyone by the color of their skin. She's not a black engineer -- she's an engineer. We learned how to say stop, I don't want to hear an inappropriate joke (instead of suffering in silence).

It's risky territory, but we do need to have conversations about age, just so we can say, stop, that's inappropriate. But we must be smarter about it. Language matters. Words drive change. The right words will help us think about ourselves differently and counter the negative stereotypes of aging that permeate the landscape of life. What will be the language for fighting ageism?

Let's start with ourselves. We have to stop defining ourselves by age. It's just one dimension of who we are. Joking that we're over the hill or forever 29 or 60 years young doesn't do us any good.

Every time some guy calls his wife of 30 years his bride or refers to a 50-year old woman as young lady, a small fuzzy animal dies.

I want a do-over of my fumble with the colleague who apparently wants people over 60 to exit the workspace. The next time I don't want to make it personal. I could let it pass in silent acknowledgement -- a subtle nod that says they're old, and we're not. All I've done is fake my way into the club. I haven't tried to change anything.

One could remind these dolts that age is a protected class just like race, gender, religion or disability. That might put a little fear in their corporate souls. But I'm not out to make an enemy or get anyone fired. I genuinely like these people in spite of their occasional bouts of uninspired thinking.

Shall we think of this as a gentlewoman's guide to rebellion? Is there such a thing? Because I'm not a very good militant. I seek to enlighten and educate. I've been practicing what I might say when confronted with insensitive remarks about age. Something kind and positive that leaves no doubt but isn't defensive. Nothing sounds right.

What would you say?

Home is where the cat is

My husband grew up in Northern Maine. I grew up in Southern California. We were both looking to get out of Dodge and ended up in the Army. I joined after high school, and he joined after college. We met in Germany, got married in Alabama and have moved 10 times together. Our private joke was that we liked to be several area codes away from the family hub.

We used to say no kids, no pets, we travel light. We went where the jobs took us. Home is wherever we happened to be. Six years in Germany, two and a half in Cairo. Pennsylvania, Maryland, Alabama. Picked up a cat in South Carolina. Well, two really. One is gone, but his successor came with us to Texas. Bruno. We told him they like them big in Texas.

It occurred to me recently that I wouldn't know where to live if I could choose. I asked my husband, and he didn't know either. Our parents are gone. The siblings have moved from the towns where we were raised. New people live in the houses we grew up in. I looked up my house on Google maps, and they've done something strange to the garage. Nothing there but memories to call us back. Some of those memories are what drove us away in the first place.

I wonder what it's like if you never left or sunk in deep somewhere else. That seemed like a death sentence to me so many years ago, when I was more than eager to hit escape velocity. I relish the choices I made, but perhaps the price is that I have no sense of home other than being with my husband and cat. No sense of shared community, and I am trying to imagine what that feels like.

Is it warming? Energizing? Smothering? Everybody knowing everyone else's business? My husband and I have built this cocoon. We freak out if the doorbell rings. Who could that be? What do they want? I can't imagine a neighbor stopping by just to chat or some family member needing money or a ride somewhere. Sounds annoying, but maybe it's nice.

The question about where to live is somewhat loaded. Lots of factors go into a decision about where you live -- if not family then probably money or lack thereof. Would I like to live by the beach in San Diego? Yes. Can I afford to live by the beach in San Diego? No.

I could see doing the expat thing in a place like Costa Rica or Panama. We've talked about the RV lifestyle -- my husband said he could do it if we had a luxurious base camp. But for him, no house, no go. I hear the Pacific Northwest is nice ... or maybe an artsy town in the mountains?

Well, this is a silly discussion because I don't have to think about it. I still follow the work. But there will come a day when we will either stay where we are out of comfort or inertia, or we will make a new choice. I have a feeling our definition of a happy home won't change. The two of us plus cat. Slightly reclusive nomads who freak out when the doorbell rings.

Seems like we could do that anywhere.

Swim in your own lane

My new job is working out just fine. It's demanding and challenging, which I like, but I confess that after a few stressful weeks of long days and a general sense of cluelessness that comes with new responsibilities, I whined to my husband about why everyone else seems to have a free ride.

I grumped about entrepreneurs who struck it rich with dumb ideas and people who quit work to pursue their passions. I groused about peers who will never know what the office looks like on Saturdays and writers who don't have day jobs. I bitterly recalled talentless slugs from my past who climbed the ladder with unparalleled success. I said if I were 20 years younger and had a uterus, I could give birth to some rich guy's kid and be set for life. One ex-husband and a good lawyer, and I'd be golden. Why do I always get the hard jobs?

He said because that's who you are. You work hard at everything.

Heavy sigh. Yes, of course. I am designed for this. It's in my DNA, but sometimes I look wistfully at people who made other choices. They aren't my choices, but for some reason I fall back on the envy card when I am stressed. It helped me to remember the words a friend shared with me many years ago. She said, "Swim in your own lane. Looking in somebody else's lane is only going to slow down your race."

When I stopped comparing myself to everyone else, I realized I'm happy with the way things turned out. Some choices in my life and in my career seemed like deliberate leaps into the unknown. Other choices were calculated steps on a clearly defined path but some frankly seemed more like cosmic whimsy than free will. When I add it all up, though, I landed in a pretty good place.

So many lessons, so little time. When I think about what I've learned just in the past few weeks, I am reminded more than ever that no good comes of wishing for someone else's life. Nobody has it as easy as you think, so figure out what's important to you. Work hard at it, trust yourself and then grab a lane, put your head down and swim.

No peeks.

Backwards and in Easy Spirits

No surprise, but I did not buy a multithousand dollar statement handbag as a gift to myself upon getting promoted. I bought this quite beautiful Harveys bag instead. All Harveys products are made in the USA out of seatbelts! I think it's very me, very much my personal style. It's a roomy satchel that's not too big and hangs nicely from my shoulder. Regularly priced $278, but it is on sale now at Zappos for $195. There's a smaller one, too. The quality is excellent, and I love the silver nickel hardware instead of gold. Cause we all know silver rocks.

Thank you for the kind words when I announced I had blogger's block. I typically reply to comments, but I have been so busy at work and sick on top of it and left the comments on idle. I'm proud to say it was my second full week on the job, and I was barely breathing, but I pulled it off anyway.

As Ann Richards said in her keynote address at the 1988 Democratic National Convention, "If you give us a chance, we can perform. After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels."

In my case, it would be backwards and in Easy Spirits. Not as glam, but I had to make special accommodations for my lingering sports injury. The Easy Spirits look like flight attendant shoes. I like them, but I hope to be back in sassier shoes soon. And that leads me to my get off the stage comments, which will feature an update on my bad knees.

Here is the executive summary. I used to be a competitive racewalker. In May 2010 I went to a racewalking clinic and hurt my knees badly. Ongoing pain and swelling has dramatically curtailed my exercise, even my ability to move around or sleep without pain. Months of physical therapy helped some, but nothing made it go away completely. Even the physical therapist gave up -- he said I needed to adjust my expectations.

Two MRIs show my knees are 100 percent normal -- not even any signs of arthritis. Yay! The doctor finally said the only thing left to do is an exploratory arthroscopy. I was within a week of having the surgery, when I was talking to a young woman at work who played Lacrosse in college and has had multiple surgeries on her knees and still has problems. She said you don't want to get them cut on unless you've exhausted all your other options.

I went to a sports injury rehab clinic, and the first thing he said is that pain lies. It's not usually where you think it is, and it usually starts at the top and moves down. He said the biggest problem I had was my back, which was referring pain to my knees. My back never hurt! He gave me back stretches, and 60 percent of my pain was gone in two days. The knee pain didn't completely go away, and he is using a variety of sports rehab techniques such as ART to break up the scar tissue in my knees and dry needling to loosen up the muscle knots in my quads.

I'm the best I've been since I first hurt them and am exercising 30 minutes a day with no pain. Slowly building up to more but not doing anything dumb. I hate to play the gender-age card, but some of the so-called professionals I consulted with wrote me off because I'm a middle-aged woman, and hey, isn't knee pain normal for you gals? I kept telling them it was an injury not a gradual decline, but they couldn't accept me as an athlete. Just a gray-haired lady with bum knees.

My point today is about listening to your body and never giving up. That saved me with cancer, and it looks like it's going to return me to a more active life without knee pain and without surgery.

Blogger's Block

I feel sort of stuck. Like everything I've written and posted to date is junk, and nothing I could share in the future will be worthwhile. Who cares about any of this, really? The internet could blow up tomorrow, and everything on it will be dust in the wind.

Wow. That's depressing! Except I am not depressed. I'm happy, so this blogger's block took me by surprise. I'm slightly anxious over my new job -- the first week was great, but I have a lot to learn. Change, even good change, is stressful. Big picture -- it's healthy to get outside your comfort zone. I am confident in my abilities. I know in my heart that challenge and opportunity trump fear.

Also on the positive news meter, I've come to terms with the role writing and blogging have in my life. I always wanted to make a living writing but now realize I don't have the guts for surviving on the financial edge. I'll take all the stresses of the workplace over the stress of wondering how the bills get paid. It's liberating to just write and know I don't have to make money at it.

Maybe that's my problem. I'm not hungry anymore. I have a good job. Why blog? I blog because I want a seat at the table where all the good stuff is being discussed! I don't want to miss a thing. Plus, I am motivated simply by the art and craft of writing. Writing is fulfilling in a way no job can touch.

We are all complex beings, and as such, why put all our eggs in one basket? My professional career is very important to me, but so is writing, reading, walking, shopping, cycling, swimming, golfing, camping, good food, good drink and watching "Chopped."

Some might say I lack focus, but being driven to pursue varied interests makes for a more balanced and interesting life. Plenty of driven, balanced and interesting people have exceptional careers. We do not have to surrender our complete selves just because we work.

See? Writing about it brings clarity. I'll do my best to hop over this block and come back with something you will enjoy reading.

Thank you for your patience.

50 shades of hair colors

Happy New Year! This is my New Year's Day attire: jammies, robe, third-day hair and no makeup. And you know what? I like it.

And I really like my hair. I was back in the hair science laboratory over the holidays conducting experiments on my head. Here's what I learned, as it applies to me, at this precise moment in time ... because everyone knows The Hair Paradox states that as soon as you think you know something, you will find out later that you were wrong.

1. The magazines want you to have hair that is hard to maintain.
2. You don't need a $100 cut to look good.
3. Silicone conditioners detangle and prevent breakage.
4. Silicone conditioners can eventually make hair dull and less wavy.
5. Shampoos with sulfates are OK once in awhile to eliminate build-up.
6. Styling products are overrated.
7. Less product = less buildup = less sulfate.
8. A little bit of silicone goes a long way.
9. Use silicone in the tangle-prone area on the back of the neck.
10. Use silicone-free conditioner everywhere else.
11. Shampoo as little as possible.
12. Condition when you wet it even when you don't wash.
13. Blow-dry as little as possible.
14. Don't brush as much.
15. Wear it up a lot.
16. Use hair-friendly accessories like sticks and french twist combs.
17. Finger comb when you put it up for a fuller look.
18. Do not compare your hair to the hair you see on TV.
19. Love the hair you have.
20. Don't judge someone by the color of her hair.

About #20 ... I love my silver hair, and my mission is to present it as a hip and stylish choice. That is not changing. What is changing is my perspective. I understand not everyone wants to join team gray, and that's cool. I've been judgmental about those who have made a different choice, and I regret that.

We are part of a much larger team, and there's plenty of room for everyone at the party. What I see is an emerging online community of amazing midlife women writing about the journey in all its parts. I want to be part of a dialogue that ultimately transcends hair color. Where are we going? What are we going to do next? What are you going to wear?

I'll be the one rocking the silver.

A weekend with jeggings

You are no doubt aware that I hate posting pictures of myself, but I knew you would not believe me if I said I felt great wearing skinny jeans that are more like denim leggings and then didn't cough up the evidence. Granted, it's a crappy photo, but if you squint, you can see that I am wearing what some people call jeggings.

The fashion police have again pronounced that women over 40 should generally steer clear of skinnies. This is nonsense. I mean, I'm not cruising Forever 21, but I believe there's a way to own this look regardless of age or size. Check out Debbi at She Accessorizes Well.

Despite the propaganda, it turns out you don't have to wear high heels, and you don't have to hide your butt! I tried on tunics and all that, but they just made me look like a shapeless blob. I don't hate my body, and I don't think I should have to disguise it because someone else thinks I'm too old or too curvy. I did try to balance a looser top with the more fitted bottom.

I wanted casual kick around jeans that were comfortable but not baggy -- and I found them in Not Your Daughter's Jeans. I'm wearing the Alena Legging in lightweight denim. They fit more like jeans than leggings -- all the pockets are real pockets, and they're a little slimmer at the ankle opening than the other NYDJ skinny jeans. They are higher in the waist and cover everything that needs to be covered. I had to go down two sizes. It's ridiculous vanity sizing, but who cares? Just be careful and go as small as you can go when you are shopping. They are stretchy and comfortable and made in the USA!

Obviously, I will not be the poster girl for jegging couture, but I wasn't looking to make a bold fashion statement. I just wanted a somewhat stylish uniform for Texas winter weekends, so I bought a couple of flannel shirts at Target and added my old black Minnetonka moccasins. These jeans also look great tucked into boots.

I might be delusional, but I like this outfit. Not exactly ready for the fashion blogs, but I don't look ridiculous, either. That was my target, by the way ... low levels of ridiculous. I encourage you to ignore the so-called rules and the noise, and dress how you please. You can totally rock the skinnies if you want to.