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In the lift.


Photo by Retha Ferguson on

My appointment was at nine o’clock. After dropping off my child to school to get somewhere for 9 am is rushed, to say the least. Traffic was bad too. After the parking ticket purchased I was still ok for time. Wind up to 50 mph and cold got my senses working. I was not familiar with where I was going. For second-floor, I generally don’t take the lift but as this was a new place and stairs were not in sight, I took the lift. There were unfamiliar faces but what struck me was the mirror showing a tired face with so many grey hairs, completely windswept. I wanted to take my gaze off myself but instead started tucking the grey hairs in amongst the black bits. I recently had a facial injury around the eye which is a lot better but has left mild pigmentations and scarring. In the short journey up the lift made me realise that I am ageing. After the meeting, I definitely found the stairs. I wasn’t ready to face the mirror again.

I haven’t dyed my hair ever as I am always sceptical of unnatural looks. Menopause makes the skin and hair texture different. It is alright to get old. Men get away with being bald and with white hair. That does not make anything better for me though. A woman I feel wants to look her best. Why? I am not sure. Acceptance is better now and people will like you for what you really are, most of the time. My grey hair for the time being still looks healthy and I feel happy and confident with my wisdom.

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