First, let me say I think all my friends who have let the silver naturally happen look AMAZING. I sat across the breakfast table from Lisa B. the other day, and all I could think was how much prettier she is now than when we were kids. And she was way pretty back then, too.
So there you are.
But. I have never considered letting myself go gray. Women in my family don't do that. As I've said here before, the last words TRQ's mother ever uttered on this planet were,"I need a tint tomorrow." Her hair was red, red, red until the day she died. And, in fact, the day after she died, too. Meanwhile, the Coach's mother--a lady who had to put on platform sandals (which she often did) to clear 4'9"--kept an ongoing journal about everything she did to her hair. So you can see that graying is not really an option in my world.
Until yesterday when I realized I have roots showing again, even though I just did something to them. And that doing something to them takes a) time and b) money, and I am so so so so so lazy these days I don't want to mess. Not anymore.
So I floated the question out there to the Universe: "Should I let myself go gray?" Then I went to Target, because why not go to Target every chance you get? Anyway, while I was at the Tar-jay, all these women my age practically kept running me over with their shopping coats--not because they were hostile but because (like me) they're blind. Or mostly blind. In my case, I still have enough vision left to notice that all these shopping-cart-crazies who were my age had graying hair. And it wasn't cute. It was like the Universe answered my question. See, Ann? This is what you'll look like when you run someone over with a shopping cart. Is this what you want?
I appreciated the answer. Truly. Who doesn't want to look their best when they ram a shopping cart into a stranger's backside?
Only I wish the Universe would get around to answering some of my larger life questions now and then, you know?