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The Cure for Vanity
I found a quotation by Tom Wolfe about vanity: “The surest cure for vanity is loneliness.” I think he’s right; if we have no one to see us or hear us or flatter us, we can simply be who we are.
Speaking of “being who we are,” at times I envy women who have no interest in make-up or primping themselves for others or even for themselves; their lives are simpler. No budgeting money for make-up, hairstyle stuff, skin toners, wrinkle remover products—just being their natural selves. No time needed for putting all that stuff on or taking it off.
My envy doesn’t last long, though. As a fair-skinned blonde, I have to do some things.
Still, in spite of my vanity, I don’t wear a whole lot of make-up; I can dash it on in a couple of minutes. And I often get compliments on my hair: it’s naturally curly, and I get “foils” (for the uneducated, color added) to, ahem, deal with the discoloration of my hair. Yes, I mean gray! But over the years, as I mentioned in a previous post, I have noticed my hair is turning silver. A beautiful silver, actually, like my mother had. So I went through this silly debate in my head: should I let it grow out to its natural silver color?
Even though it would reduce her income, my hairdresser thought it would be a great idea. She told me anecdotes about women who had decided to let their hair grow out to silver, and to this day, they still love it. Only one woman couldn’t stand it: put it back to color, she declared.
Now some of you, especially you guys, think this is an easy decision. You may be right—I do tend to complicate things. Yet there is a recognition that goes with “going silver”: I’m getting old.
Now some of you will protest and try to soothe me with comments that I’m not that old. I’m just maturing. But what does that mean? I’m certainly not young, although in some ways I’d like to think I’m young at heart. But at times I’m also a cranky old biddy. I’m entitled to be cranky at nearly 70 years old.
I think that my recognition of my “oldness” is not a statement of resignation, but a recognition of my place on life’s path. I’m on this amazing journey, doing what I love, embracing my friendships, writing often. I’ve earned the right to call myself whatever I wish, including “old.” Sure, the body is starting to show signs of wear—well, okay, it’s been showing signs of wear for a while! But I’ve earned my wrinkles, and I’m in darn good shape, with my aches and pains.
So what does my silver hair represent? First, I never could have imagined that I would be as spry as I am at this point. Nearly 70 seemed old, even when I was 50. But I look around me and I see lots of people who shuffle, lean over when they walk, and seem to be dragging themselves through life. I catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window and I’m bouncing along with a spring in my step. How lucky I am! But I also work at keeping relatively fit. If I am vain, it’s about not resigning myself to immobility, to mediocrity, to loneliness. I’m also keenly aware that my well-being could change in an instant. Everything changes.
Will my silver hair make me look old? Or as old as I actually am? Maybe. But there is also something rewarding about being satisfied, just where I am. Not complacent, but acknowledging that my silver hair, like the metal, is a treasure, a gift of time.
So the question is easy, as is the answer.
Shall I go silver? Yes, indeed.
Published in Culture
“Miss” I wouldn’t mind. And if it’s pretty obvious the person is actually older than I am, I would probably let the “young lady” slide.
And for the record, presumption is practically my middle name.
I didn’t say I was, but I don’t like the presumption. Also, to be devoid of vanity can go in three different directions. It could mean complete humility, it could mean complete self-loathing, or it could mean complete confidence.
Fair enough. (I’m nothing if not a hit or miss personality.) I apologize if it seemed I was singling you out. I just meant generally that being alone tends to reduce vanity, even amongst those that are not particularly prone.
As a Christian with lifelong suicidal tugs, I don’t need to be old to understand the importance of remembering a very basic tenet of faith: If I am alive, it is because my Creator wants me alive. If He wants me alive, there is purpose; there is hope; there is light in my life to find. I don’t need to know why I am alive. I just need to look up and out, so I can respond to His surprises.
God uses the old and the weak. He uses the broken and the corrupt. He uses the vain and the ugly, the proud and the slothful, the hypocrites and the dumb. Everyone lives because everyone is loved. We don’t have to earn it. But it’s good to want to.
Enthusiasm comes and goes. Faith is the rock beneath our feet.
I think it depends on the person and on the mood. Sometimes being alone means being away from reminders that others have ideas different from your own and that sometimes those ideas can be surprisingly good.
This is beautiful, @aaronmiller. We all need to remember this, especially as we are looking at others, not just ourselves.
I will tell anyone my age – sometimes even if they don’t ask. At 65, I am still working full time with plans (God willing) to work another five years or so. I have decided to embrace my old-ladyhood and have told my family such. Generally that means I will be even more brutally honest if they ask my opinion. I’ve never pretended to be younger than I was, and I’m not going to start now. Others can just deal with it. I dress like a professional for work and church, and casually (not like a slob) at other times. I have had to give up on the high heels though – can’t do much more than 1-1/2″ anymore. I never used much makeup so that is not a change either. My hair is probably 30-40% gray/silver and it will continue on that path. I agree with @eb that women without gray hair generally look younger, but I am not interested in the cost (I can be pretty cheap) or time that would take. I’ve got better things to spend my money on, and naps to take. I guess I just don’t see getting older as a time of change – I am going to be who I am and do what I do regardless of the number of years since my birth.
I request a Point of order:
Is going Gray now called the new Silver?
I could have written what you wrote here myself, @she! Great minds think alike. Thanks for sharing these thoughts–and BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
I could have written what you wrote here myself, @she! Great minds think alike. Thanks for sharing these thoughts–and BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Now that’s funny! I’ve always thought they said that because we BOTH knew that I wasn’t a young lady and we could laugh about it. Sometimes I can be so naive, @eb!
There are women whose hair turns an iron gray, with no shine (some of my aunts had that kind of hair), others get kind of a shiny gray, which in the light can be called silver. Others go white. Or it can be a mix. All depends upon genes, I guess.
There are some products which use silver as a euphemism for old – Centrum Silver vitamins come to mind, and some health care outfit has a Silver Sneakers wellness program. So I suppose, in answer to your question, yes.
We are sisters in spirit, @juliana! I relate to everything you say, from the high heels and naps! Thank you.
Good question! To me, there is a range of both gray and silver. My silver will be closer to white; many grays are closer to light charcoal. It’s all so sophisticated, @gldiii! Get with the plan! ;-)
My mother started getting gray hairs in her late 20’s. For years, she had her hairdresser put on a sort of steel gray rinse. (It wasn’t permanent, but it supposedly sort of lessened the contrast between her brunette hair and the gray.)
When she finally decided to stop and go natural, her hair turned out to be a beautiful, sparkling white. And she actually looked younger because the white hair was softer and complimented her skin tone better than the harsher steel color.