Rock the Silver

Cancer in my pocket

I am as amazed as anyone that this french twist comb works on my fine hair. Melissa at Stone Bridge Hair Accessories demonstrates how to do it. Melissa inspired me to give it a try, but I purchased it from France Luxe because she doesn't sell outside the UK. For extra holding power, you could use spin pins and then add the comb.

But enough with the hair. I couldn't wait to share the epiphany I had this week about the joy of breathing. You'd think I wouldn't need a refresher course in the pleasure of being alive, but as you know, sometimes the bastards grind you down. I already wrote about my silly computer trauma. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing, yet it still made for a rough week.

Thursday I visited the dermatologist for my annual check-up. My husband is one of the pink people with lots of little glebs and blebs, but I have darker skin and have fared pretty well in the sun wars. But I go every year for the big naked look-see, because I respect cancer. I figure, well, I got it once when I least suspected it, so I should be vigilant about everything.

I saw this particular doctor for the first time last year, and I remember him being amazed I was an ovarian cancer survivor. If you read through my archives, you'll learn I actually had primary peritoneal cancer, which is pretty much the same thing as ovarian. If it's a drive-by, I say ovarian. If I'm sitting next to you on the airplane, I'll tell you everything if you ask nicely. Or maybe I'll just tell you anyway, because I am working on an e-book about my experience, and I'll be posting some excerpts from time to time. Consider yourself warned. My encounter with the dermatologist may or may not make it into the book, but telling this story is a public declaration of my intent. No backing down now.

So, the doctor walked into the room as I sat there naked and draped in a flimsy paper robe, and the first thing he said was, "You're the ovarian cancer survivor."

Me: Yes, 13 years next month.

Him: Wow. You're lucky.

Me: I know.

Him: They must have caught it early.

Me: No, it was advanced. Stage 3.

Him: You're really really lucky.

Me: Believe me, I know.

But sometimes I have to be reminded! He asked me a lot of questions about my surgery and treatment and was surprised they had Taxol "back then." I said absolutely, I had a chance encounter at a golf course of all places with a researcher who helped develop the drug, and he said I was the poster girl for Taxol. It was approved for use in 1992, so by the time I needed it in 1999, they had worked out the optimum cycle.

Following the surgery to remove as much cancer as possible, I had a cocktail of Benadryl, Taxol and Carboplatin infused every 21 days for six months. I've been fine ever since. Benadryl is an anti-allergan, and I am pleased to let you know it was one hell of a rush when shot directly into your vein. The rush didn't last long, but I looked forward to it just the same.

Anyway, I passed the dermo exam. Another stroke of good fortune. No bad moles. I have mild rosacea on my face, you almost can't see it, but he gave me the name of a cosmetic dermatologist who can laser it off if I want. I'm thinking about it.

It was a good visit, and I'd go back again right this minute just to hear him say how lucky I am. Sometimes I imagine that I carry around cancer in my pocket like an emergency dollar bill. And sometimes I just have to reach in my pocket and fish it out to remind me that every minute of every day is a gift. I wish I had learned all this important stuff in some other way, but I ignored all the little sticks. It was the big stick that got my attention.

For those of you who are better with sticks, I think the thing to remember is that whatever we're doing, wherever we've been and wherever we're going, no matter how bad it gets, we're lucky. We're really, really lucky.

 

Gray hair -- no minimum age requirement

If you haven't visited Diana Jewell's new Going Gray Looking Great Facebook site, by all means -- go! One almost gets the feeling there's a gray hair revolution. Women in various stages of gray are posting their pictures, and there are some stunningly beautiful women rocking the silver hair. Check out Mia, Robin, Claire and Claire again!

Hair stylists and well-meaning friends like to say it's OK to go gray, but wait until you're 65 or 70 or whatever is in their heads as the definition of old. When I saw these silver-haired beauties in their 30s, 40s and 50s on GGLG, I was reminded of the George Bernard Shaw quote, "Youth is wasted on the young." There's no such thing as a minimum age requirement for gray hair. You don't have to save it for the end.

Much too often women view gray hair as the line of demarcation for aging. When you mostly see elderly women with gray hair, well, that's what you think. But when you see women of all ages sporting stylish gray hair, you begin to see the line is blurring. Gray is neither young nor old -- it's just a color like any other.

A lot of the women engaging with GGLG are in the awkward stage when you stop dyeing your hair and start letting the the gray grow in. Talk about a line of demarcation! But once you're on this path, you just have to hang tough and roll with it. And there are some happy surprises along the way.

I remember when my hair was coming back in after chemotherapy 13 years ago. I made a decision to remove my bandanas and expose my bald head so everyone at work could see the day-to-day progress. What an eye-opening experience -- taking off the head covering was an invitation to talk to me, and I connected with people in ways I never imagined.

After my hair grew in, I decided to dye it, and that lasted a few years. But when I made the decision to quite dyeing it, it was a lot like when I had cancer -- this time I removed my head covering of dyed hair, and people were curious about what was going on. Going through this difficult transition in public somehow makes you more approachable. I made a lot of new friends as my hair transitioned to silver.

I used to say I felt like I was leading a parade of one, but I now believe the tide has turned. I like it.

Gray hair isn't what ages us

A woman at work who is about my age complimented me on my hair this week and said she would go gray except that she competes with younger folks at work. I said, well, I do too, but I'm pretty sure they know how old we are. I'd rather just be in their face about it.

I don't think we project our most positive vibes when age and try to pretend it hasn't happened. Hell, yeah, it happened. And you'd better be glad it did, because I am that much better because of it. I'd much rather project the confidence of someone who has learned from life, is exceptional at her job and comfortable in her skin. Hide? I don't think so.

Hair is just one variable in how you are perceived. We are also judged by how we dress, what we say and even how we walk. A colleague was describing someone to me the other day, and he said, "You know, he looks like the dead guy walking." And I knew exactly who he was talking about.

I'm reading an excellent book about becoming even more vital both mentally and physically as we age. It's kind of groovy -- not for everyone -- but the stretching exercises alone are worth the price of admission. I find myself walking with more spring in my step. Gray hair isn't aging -- but aging is aging if you don't pay attention to your body and mind.

Yesterday I was shopping for a new bicycle. My hair was down and freshly blown, and I wore workout tights and my Rock the Silver t-shirt -- thinking I might do a test ride. The guy who runs the shop was probably my age or a bit older. He was pointing out a bike and said, "You're young and fit -- you won't grow out of this bike."

All day I kept thinking, he said I was young! I've stated quite frequently that I don't care if I look young, but still, it's better than if he had said, "You're getting on up there, and you won't need this bike for long." I asked my husband later if the guy was just flirting to sell me a bike. I mean I've got this crop of gray hair and wrinkles to match, surely he didn't really think I'm young?

My husband said, "Nah, it's how you come across. You seem young. That's probably what he meant."

Maybe they were both flirting.

Silver updos

I guess I can call my hair long now. Maybe to be more accurate I should say mid-length. It has been fun, actually. I've been experimenting again with an updo that is appropriate for work. The top one is my favorite because it's easy, comfortable and I like the contrast of the small barette. The second one is a little more on the classic side. I use spin pins, but if you aren't careful, they can be like drilling holes in your head.

Several people have complimented me on the updo. It gives the illusion of short hair, which is a fun way to mix it up. I'm starting to wear it this way more often than not. I tell you what I would really like to try is a scrunchie. I know, I know. Stylish Young Co-worker made me promise I would never do it. But I think the right one wore low on the neck can be pretty. I bought this little braided twisty at Ulta -- it's not quite a scrunchie, but it's kind of heavy for my hair, and I haven't worn it in public yet. I like the overall effect. Who would wear scrunchies if it weren't such a fashion faux pas?

I just can't imagine why so many people find long gray hair unattractive. I've become quite vain about mine. I love looking at it and playing with it. I especially love the variations in color that you see when I wear it up. I went to an event this week and noticed all the women who dyed their hair, and they seemed rather blah to me. Who wants a wall of fake color when you get this naturally?

Is the best hair yet to come?

Let's see. I have mixed emotions about my hair. I should just record that message and keep it handy so I don't have to say it again. It's getting tiresome.

I had been thinking all this angst would go away as I got older and more sure of myself, but I guess as long as you give a damn about your appearance, you will always wonder if this is the best you can do. I'd like to be a positive role model for aging with grace and style -- not a delusional diehard who won't give up the idea of long hair even when it looks better short.

Perhaps silver complicates the decision. People are so judgmental about gray hair. It's not as though we need to give them any ammunition by not looking spectacular. My sister-in-law, who told me earlier this year it looks like I have given up, was here for the holidays and said I needed to go short and spiky. I am grateful she does not tell me to dye it. I will say this: I have questions and concerns about the best style, but I don't think my hair is aging, I love the color and I wouldn't even consider dying it again.

Next month will be three years since I was scalped. I enjoy having longer hair, but I'm still not sure the sleek bob from a year ago wasn't the best I can do. The thing about the bob, at least with my hair, is that you must style it daily. My hair is just getting long enough now where I can let it air dry into soft waves at night and get up and go in the morning. If I'm having a bad hair day or just want to look a little more business-like, I can pull it back or wear it up. It's like the less I mess with it, the better it looks. While the bob looks polished, I actually prefer a little less precision. Does that make sense?

You may notice I got new glasses as well. These are not in-your-face-look-at-me-I'm-wearing-funky-glasses glasses. Been there, done that. I wanted something more understated that just sort of fits my face and contrasts nicely with my hair, and I believe I may have succeeded. I've made some mistakes in the past, but these feel right!

What's next? I will not being going short and spiky, at least for now. I may go back to the bob, but I'm thinking I won't. I already know what my hair used to look like, and I don't yet know what it could be when it grows up. I've been surprised by how the waves looked awful until very recently. It's like they have to reach a certain length before they start cooperating.

I've always said the best is yet to come, and I'm hoping it will be that way with my hair, too. If it turns out long silver hair isn't my best, then short will be my best. Either way, I win.

The buzz killer known as gray hair

Paula commented on my last post and left a link to an article about Liz Jones and her so-called battle with gray hair. It's like a train wreck. I just can't look the other way. Neither can anyone else apparently. There are more than 500 comments.

For those of you with stronger will or more important things to do, the gist of it is that Liz struggles with looking old. She dyes her hair black and hates gray roots. Lizzy mustered up a whole heap of courage and switched to the patented caramel mush with gold highlights. She feels strangely liberated.

The comments are kind of snarky. Liz, you aren't pretty enough. Liz, your eyeliner sucks. I could say that women are way too hard on other women, but it looks like some of the contributors are men. Maybe people are just too damned hard on other people. She looks fine to me. I just think it's sad and silly that gray hair is such a buzz killer.

Wikipedia says Liz is anorexic, and Liz herself has written about her struggles with food. She also wrote about her facelift and well, probably lots of other stuff. I ran out of time. I mention this not to criticize Liz. I struggled with food in my teens and early adulthood. I haven't written a whole lot about eating issues, but I did describe some of my problems in an older post I called Food fight!

I mention it because I'm beginning to realize the buzz killer isn't gray hair itself but the inability of some women to reinvent themselves as they morph into middle age. They are not who they were or wanted to be, and that skunk stripe in the mirror is just another poke in the eye. And we will continue to read about women with self-esteem issues who hate gray hair because reasonably well-adjusted women who rock the silver aren't nearly as entertaining. Be ready, and come back when you need reinforcements.

Although I am partial to silver, I recognize there are plenty of cool women out there who are evolving as they age, and they continue to dye their hair simply because they like it. It's a style choice not an act of desperation. Some of them even read Rock the Silver because they aren't scared or threatened and they might just do it some day, and if that's you, welcome!

You don't have to be gray to pull off a spectacular second act, but I say why not? It's beautiful, sexy and fun ... and to borrow from Edna Ferber, a delightful sensation once you cease to struggle.

No makeup, no products, no nothing

Donna with morning hair, no products, no makeup, no nothing -- is that so horrible?

I don't know what's going on with me, but I feel myself being pulled -- or am I deliciously sinking -- into a place I'll call the no-bullshit zone. I started using natural oils and gradually got pissed at China and next thing you know, I'm raging against mascara and hair extensions. Here it comes.

Just so you know, makeup was never my thing. I used to say men look attractive without makeup, why are women only considered beautiful when they are painted? I only started wearing makeup when I went silver, and even then, most people can't tell I'm wearing any. But I made the supreme effort for the greater good of silverkind. The problem is my lashes are sparse, and mascara only goes so far.

I actually looked into alternatives such as eyelash extensions, Latisse, tinting and eyelash perms -- yes, there is such a thing. And then I thought, why? Because someone somewhere decided we have to have doll-like lashes? Can't someone somewhere say natural-looking lashes are just fine, thank you? I now do a little swipe of mascara just to darken them a bit and leave it at that.

And so it comes to extensions of another sort. As I was watching television the other night, I was struck by the quality of the hair. It's like they are genetically superior. Seriously, I actually said it looks to me that if you have thick hair, the world is your oyster. You can have a pie job on TV and live happily ever after. Not that I'm bitter about having fine hair.

Not long after that, I saw where Cindy Joseph dyed her hair blonde for an advertising gig. In the discussion at Going Gray Looking Great, Cindy comments on the choices she made and reveals that she wears extensions. She really does look fabulous, but all this time I had been thinking maybe someday my hair could look like hers! In a parallel universe maybe.

Everyone should remember that celebrities are very different from you and me. The rest of us should not and cannot be held up to a standard of beauty defined by fakery. They are entertainers and peddlers of products that may or may not be useful -- certainly not role models.

Most of us live in the world of mere mortals, and I believe mere mortals are attracted to each other without all the bullshit. And mere mortals can look and feel gorgeous without trying to mimic celebrities. We are not them, so let's quit pretending.

I'm certainly not giving up, and I will probably continue to use cosmetics and other products sparingly, but I am rethinking my definition of beauty, and I have to tell you, it feels good.

 

A silver-haired role model goes blonde

Cindy Joseph, the greatest silver-haired role model ever, dyed her hair blonde for an advertising gig. You can read all about it and see the pictures on Going Gray Looking Great.

As I read it, there was an audible not unlike the noise my cat makes when he is wounded. My husband was on the other side of the room, and he almost jumped out of his chair.

Are you OK?

Yes, Cindy Joseph dyed her hair blonde.

And that's a big deal how?

She practically started the revolution single-handedly.

Huh.

It's so disappointing. Not that she took the money, but that advertisers didn't see her as beautiful with gray hair.

Probably made a bundle.

Yeah, I guess I would do it for a million.

Absolutely! Let's not be doctrinaire about this.

So there you have it. Follow the money.

I guess this is what 56 looks like

Today is my 56th birthday. I was thinking it was a non-event until I read an article about 9/11. One of the first responders was describing that horrible day, which also happened to be his birthday. He said the day is a joyous occasion for him now, because birthdays are a celebration of life.

I never really thought about it that way, even after being diagnosed with advanced stage ovarian/peritoneal cancer at age 43. I'm certainly happy to be here, but to me, birthdays were just another Hallmark day. But now I am going to think of it as a celebration of my life.

Sometimes I feel that I haven't accomplished what I set out to do, but overall, I think I've done a pretty good job with my time on Planet Earth. I'm profoundly grateful I got to live.

So, this is what 56 looks like. Could that be approaching shoulder-length gray hair? And leggings? I'm as surprised as anyone. So much yet to be revealed, and with any luck, plenty of time to get to the rest of the stuff.

Gray hair news and inspiration

I periodically cruise blogs and news for posts and articles about gray hair, and this week I struck gold. Or should I say silver ...

Patti at the excellent food blog Worth the Whisk revealed her gorgeous silver self. Get on over there and take a peek -- she looks great!

The Huffington Post featured a nice piece by Barbara Hannah Grufferman about graying hair and the choices we make.

Corporette ran an interesting article about businesswomen and gray hair ... why men are seen as gaining gravitas with their gray, while gray-haired women are sometimes perceived as having "let themselves go." Argghhh.

Alyson at That's Not My Age formally introduced herself after two years of blogging -- and on top of looking sensational, she is rocking some silver on blonde.

As with all these pieces, don't forget to read the comments for perspective and sometimes even inspiration! I, myself, am seeking inspiration today in the form of retail therapy. I've got a shopping jones and an urge for something different.

When it comes to gray hair and style, the only thing to let go of is judgment and fear.