Thursday, 15 August 2019


Apropos of nothing at all really, I have decided to share my going grey transition.  As most people know, giving in to the grey is a life changing decision.  And it doesn't just affect women, I remember my dear old Dad hiding his Grecian 2000, in case anyone should discover he was 'colouring' his hair.  

As my regular readers will know I am currently 'trapped' in a watershed, I can't make my mind up about anything, except, with absolute determination, I am not going to dye my hair anymore! On that I am absolutely resolute, and I have now said it publicly, yikes.

I have always spent an inordinate amount of time and money on my hair and, despite my sins, it remains as tough as old boots and still does pretty much what I tell it to. And it has been through much, from the time I dyed it black as a teenager and spent an entire day in the hairdressers having the colour stripped out.  Black hair and freckles, really not a good a look.  I spent the next year buying highly priced specialist shampoo from an alchemist shop in Covent Garden to soften the strawlike texture.  

Then there was the time I decided to go blonde and another full day in a hairdressers chair.  Fortunately the damage was not as great as the first time around, but the result was still more brassy yellow than ash blonde. But the ending was a happy one, over time with regular cuts and highlights added, it became divine.  Almost too immaculate, I was teaching at the time and one of my students asked if she could touch my hair, and was it real.  

Then there was the world's worst haircut.  I had at the time found a wonderful hairdresser close to where I worked, she cut my hair exactly as I asked her to.   My confidence in her reached such an extent that I allowed her free rein.  Ok, the world's worst haircut began with the world's worst decision, and I recall it here as a word of warning, never, ever, let anyone with scissors do what they want!  The horror dawned on me when she asked if she could shave one side of my head.   I then looked more closely at her own man like haircut and stature, and thought oh feck, she's going to turn me into a punk rocker (it was the 80s') and I had to go back to office!

The haircut was awful.  There was absolutely nothing I could do with it to make it look feminine.  It reminded me of a time in childhood when my brother cut a clump of hair off the top of my head.  Nothing could be done, I had a 'tuft' thereafter.  People who knew me didn't know what to say, people who loved me said it will grow out.  Even now, I shed a tear as I recall those miserable months with terrible hair.  Sadly, I am shallow enough to equate bad hair with misery and good hair with happiness.  Bad hair days are accompanied by 'I can't go out looking like this' and 'I don't want anyone to see me'.  Neglecting my hair and letting my grey roots show is my first obvious sign of depression.  From photographs taken over the course of a lifetime, I can tell, simply from the hairstyles whether I was 'up' or 'down' at the time.  When I lost my dear old Dad, my hair grew to waist length, I just couldn't bear the thought of going to the hairdressers because I always used to go show him my new 'do'.  

But returning to the grey.  For the past few years dying my hair had become an unpleasant chore.  And it was becoming more and more frequent.  Within days the grey around my hairline would reappear, and within a week, the white line down the middle would become obvious.  I have reached that stage of the battle where it really is time to surrender.  I colour my roots with light brown or dark blonde, but regardless my hair is dark brown and shades thereof, due to the layers upon layers of dye it has had over the years.  There will be no subtle difference between the badger line and the dyed hair!

I am now at the two month stage, or thereabouts, I didn't record the exact date, but it was shortly after a haircut where my hairdresser recommended that I embrace the grey, it's currently very fashionable!  I began mulling the idea over from then on.  Actually, I did more than mull, I began to watch every 'going grey (or gray in USA)' video on YouTube.  I was looking for a quick, easy way to transform.  The 'day in a hairdresser's chair' is an option, but it involves continued dying and upkeep, something I permanently want to ditch.  I feel as though my hair has kept me hostage to boxes of dye and hairdressers for more decades than I care to remember.  And that includes my fringe - I have no option but to have my hair cut regularly because my own efforts at fringe cutting would make a good comedy montage.  

Saying 'feck you fringe' has been one of the most liberating moments in this process.  I have been teasing it up and back, going with the cow's lick I have fought all my life, so I have a wonderful half platinum, half brown quiff where the fringe used to be.  I am actually pushing all my hair back so my white hairline is exposed.  I have gone from hating it, to loving it, and wishing it would grow faster.  I am examining it each day with a microscopic mirror to see what colours are coming through.  It seems to be predominantly white, as expected, I'm almost 62, but I am thrilled with that.  Nature is taking that extra platinum step, that I was too much of a wuss to take!  I'm finally going to get that Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe look, I have always secretly craved, albeit it's going to take about a year and half!  

People and I include myself, often equate being grey, or white, with images of cauliflower perms or abandoned tresses.  The badger line gives an unkempt, too busy or too depressed, to care look.  Wise women understand that they can do just as much with their grey/white hair, as they can with dyed hair, and then some!  I am quite liking the stark white 'Morticia' streaks and am looking at the purple and blue shampoos - Mrs Slocombe eat your heart out! 

I have watched many videos of women who have kindly and thoughtfully, shared their going grey journeys on YouTube.  They all share a kick-ass confidence that I have found inspiring.  From a feminist perspective, they stand alongside their male peers, in saying 'yeah I'm going grey, so what?'.  There is nothing I admire about Theresa May, except perhaps she didn't appear to hit the bottle (dye).  Ms. May was part of that small demographic of academic and wizened women who have never bothered with such trivialities as plucking their eyebrows or painting their toenails.  Admirable for their confidence, they achieve their ambitions au naturale.  Sadly, having discovered at a young age, all the fun things I could do with my hair and face, I was never going to go down that route, so my transition will be slow and painful.

Funnily, reaching that level of acceptance has alleviated much of the pain.  So too, has simply stating, 'I'm letting the grey grow out'. It has, psychologically at least, taken a load off.  I don't want to be carted off to the psychiatrist again.  I jest.  But seriously, people do seem to be staring at me more than before.  Being a nut, it's hard to know if it is part of the paranoia, or maybe it's just because I am staring at them, especially those who have embraced the grey, are thinking about embracing the grey, or those determined to dye until the end.  

But I'm not quite as confident as I may now appear.  I have to confess, I dived into charity shop one day last week and bought a sun hat.  True, it was sweltering hot and sunny, but it was the glimpses of my sweaty, white/brown head in the shop windows that sent me running for cover.  Unfortunately, it didn't fit my fat head (I think it was child size) so I had to re-donate it elsewhere.  I have now invested in a variety of headbands.  Not to hide the grey but to enhance it, I push the dyed hair back to let the grey show, using the hairband to create a white pompadour quiff, 1940's style.  Voila!  I am surprised at my own boldness - I have hidden behind a fringe for my entire adult life.  It started off as hiding perceived wrinkles (age 16), and remained as a shackle from then on.  For some reason I saw pushing my hair back off my face as too open or too vulnerable, as though I were revealing my flaws to my enemies.  
Now the simple act of pushing back my once fringe to expose the white, gives me a feeling of empowerment.  It kind of says 'yeah, this is the new me, and I like it!', lol, maybe not quite so aggressively.  

Should I give in to the grey? is a question we all ask ourselves, men as well as women.  And it is a question most of can't avoid, because colouring, hiding and masking is the norm, opting out and choosing to be grey, is the exception.  It is a life altering decision, fundamentally it is making the transition from middle to old age.  We can, with our dyed hair, cling onto our middle age status ad infinitum, especially if we chuck in botox and surgery, but the fixings are cosmetic, they can quickly be washed away in a shower of rain or a hot flush.  We get to a point where we are fooling no-one.  I should perhaps make that realisation more specific to myself, in that I have reached that point, where even I, very brutally I might add, am asking myself, who am I trying to kid?

Ps.  It is two months (or thereabouts) since I wrote the above, and I have caved!  Red faced, shamed emoji!  Or at least I am on the way to caving, hair appointment booked for Wednesday, lol.  Unfortunately, my retro 40's, headscarves and headbands do not make me look like Lana Turner, they make me look like Mrs Bush, the elder.  The stark contrast between the dark, dark, brown of my growing out dyed hair against the bright white of the incoming roots is ghastly, it looks like an intertwining of Elaine Paige singing Memory (in full costume) and Phoebe's Smelly Cat. A kind vet would put me out of my misery.  

I am going to have most of it cut off!  Yikes!  What's left will be bleached mercilessly and toned to match my natural Platinum (I have to pinch myself when I say that, I could not be more excited!). I have tried blonde before (and loved it) but I have never gone full 'white white'.   I am not expecting the full 'Jean Harlow' at the first attempt, but I feel I am within touching distance.  

I will shortly catch up with the latest pics.  Apparently I did not ditch the dye in April, just after my last haircut, my last haircut was in March, so I am a good 5 months in.  This is the stage where most transitionees cave!  Either, a pixie cut, highlights and lowlights, or as I am doing, bleaching the colour out.  I have nothing but admiration for those who choose 'cold turkey', and I gave it a good try, but whilst browsing at grey wigs, I realised it would be a lot cheaper to blend (with bleach or whatever) what I have with the 'incoming' than going all 'Beyonce' for the next year.  

Anyway, I hope the 'video' works, my knowledge of technology remains abysmal.  Apologies for getting away from the McCanns and politics and devoting an entire blog to something so trivial as going grey.  My lifetime's saving from total insanity, has been my ability to be so easily distracted.  Brexit blah! Maniac Trump blah! the end of the world, blah!  My incoming grey hair, stop the press, hold the front page, feck, I have lost forever, the attractive, formidable, young(ish) woman I once was.  With white hair I am officially old.  Hey you, go join the 'grey' vote over there.  I don't feel relevant any more.  I am part of the past, not part of the future.  It feels so weird, because, it literally feels like yesterday when the Beatles were singing 'Yesterday'.  

But I will end on a happy and tad drunken note (I am drinking pink gin).  Ditching the dye has been ffffing hard, my hair has always been my crowning glory.  It is the one thing in my life that I have never scrimped on.  It came above groceries and mortgage is all you need to know.  Every woman, and maybe even many men, know how great it feels to walk out of a hairdressers with a stylish new 'do'.  My dear old Dad, bless him, would always reach in his pocket and say, go get your hair done, to bring me out of a depression.  He was ahead of his time

My anthem, if I have one, is, I get knocked down, and I get up again.  And nothing helps me get up again like a new 'Do'.  Watch this space!  I feel forever blessed that I have readers who have stayed with me, even during this 'tumultuous watershed' where I don't know where I am going.  I am kind of hoping that my new look (whatever it might be) will take me into a new 'wise old woman' stage.  I won't be expected to look cute and gorgeous, but I will anyway, (I'm going to be such a bitch when I am a platinum blonde lol).  I think I am going to push the boundaries I would never dared when I actually was young and gorgeous, lol.  Jeez I would so much love to have a convo with my 16 year old self.  I'll have to make up for it by having a convo with 16 year olds everywhere, especially those who are my blood relations.  

But please, stay tuned.  I have, after much pontification (is there such a word? I'll risk it anyway, lol), decided to share my going grey journey, with you with my much appreciated readers.  I have done, nothing much at all lately, but bless you, you have stayed with me.  When I started my blog I vowed to continue even if I had only one reader.  I just love writing and I feel immensely privileged that there are other people who want to read my scribblings.  

I don't know what the feelings of my readership is towards me, I'm going 50/50 love hate.  I'm being optimistic here.  My postbox suggests maybe, 30/70 hate.  The 70 being mostly Dave, who is outraged by everything I say.  Z, by the way is the outraged 60+ former alpha male here, who still thinks he can put me in his 'little woman' place.  If I were a 'She Wolf' from the days of Olde, I would slay him!

But chuckles.  I am a little bit drunk now so going off to listen to 'Honky Tonk Angels' and Elvis being so lonesome he could cry.


And that is a major ouch for a self confessed narcissist.  Oh Lord, the gift yea gi us, to see ourselves as others see us, as Robbie Burns once said - or thereabouts.  I'm pretty sure he wasn't referring to the difference between the gorgeous young thing I see in my dressing table mirror and the rather odd, aged looking woman I see in the selfies and pictures I take, but his words are strangely applicable.  I fear the camera is more accurate than my own lying eyes!  It reminds me of an incident not so long when I caught sight of myself in my son's wing mirror.  'Good heavens', said I, 'I'm not half as good looking as I thought I was'.  'Finally!' said SAS (Smart Arse Son), implying he had been trying to tell me that for years. Fortunately, I found it amusing, like the time he told me my body dysmorphia was quite justified.

On the home front, my rebellious decision to embrace the grey has not gone down well.  Those who know and love me (a very small circle) are finding it harder to accept than I.  They fear I will no longer be the person they know, right now I'm more mumsy than nanny-ish, I'm not ready (they say, bless 'em) to move into the nan group, to settle among the placid, cauliflower permed knitters of breakfast cereals. I'm not sure that patronising advert represents any nanas these days, most are just as vibrant and fashionable as their offspring and are just as likely to have long, well-kempt, flowing locks. The long hair grey hair transitions I have watched, have been spectacular, true they too have to go through the awful ugly duckling stage longer than those who cut it all off, but their incoming grey adds unique highlights to the styling of their hair.

Among many of the grey videos, were women who gave in to the urge to have all their dyed hair cut off pixie style. Pixie style is another option for the impatient, but a drastic step and a horrific way to discover short hair just doesn't suit you (see tragic tale above).  There is nothing to hide behind.  Unless you have the exquisite features of Audrey Hepburn or Mia Farrow, I would say avoid.   

I find actually, that I have a new admiration for those women who embrace the grey, whatever route (no pun intended) they take.  Each must have gone through the transformation one way or another, through highlights, or cold turkey and their patience has paid off.  One of most exciting parts of the journey, is not knowing what colour you will end up with.  I'm not religious, but I do believe in nature.  It has far more sophisticated colour palettes than L'Oreal, I look forward to seeing what it throws at me. 

Going grey really is a case of 'mind over matter'.  On the one hand we can see it as a permanent enemy at the gate that we have to go to war with every two weeks ad infinitum, filling in the holes with spray paint and polyfiller or we give in to the biblical glorious crown. The bible holds grey haired folk in high regard, one of the few things I agree with.  It is strange how one day you can look at some things, the dreaded badger line, with sheer terror and shame, and another day, you can see it as a symbol of empowerment.

The truth is we are all acutely and unrealistically thinking that others are scrutinizing us with a magnifying glass.  This is entirely in our heads, even in the heads of those we consider sane.  It makes us painfully self conscious, paranoid, even though we have no need to be.  Most people think about themselves 99% of the time.  Unless you have gone out in your pyjamas, or if male, are walking around with your fly undone, everyone you encounter will instantly forget you.  It is not even a memory to forget, you simply didn't register.  Whilst we may think the whole world is watching us and looking out for any flaw, they're really not. When the grey kicks in, they will treat you as an old person, that is, exactly the same way as they did before.  See 'you're fooling no-one' above.    

Ps.  For anyone still here, apologies, I'm trying to cut/delete a former blog that was abandoned, but seem to be lacking the cognitive abilities, hic, oops, sorry!  


  1. If you want a nice clean purplish bluish silver, try Fudge Shampoo, Amazon is the cheapest place to buy it that I've found. My hair consists of bleached and toned highlights which the product works well for as well as natural grey and white.

    Good luck with your new phase and look, maybe you can bite the bullet and cut it as well, a new fresh look will be really good for you I think and will suit you as long as you don't go too short. Your hair is perfect for a long layered textured bob, can't wait to see the new you and given your hair type I doubt it's going to take as long as a year and a half to grow out.

    Emmylou Harris and Helen Mirren are just two examples of women who wear silver hair really well & if it suits them I'm sure it will suit you too!

  2. Thank you so much 23:24 for taking the time to give me a kind reply. It is much appreciated! Being a 'grey watcher' is my new OCD, and Helen Mirren is a Goddess! I sometimes wonder if we can ever stand on equal terms with men, as long we feel the need to make ourselves look younger. In parliament, men wear their silver streaks as a badge of maturity and wisdom, their female counterparts must lose at least one afternoon a week covering up their grey.

    And it's not like the grey is unattractive. I have watched literally hundreds of grey transitions on YouTube (and now Pinterest) and I am in awe at the wonderful array of colours nature sets forth. I don't think L'Oreal or any cosmetic company can compete with the marvellous unique colour palette we each have when we let our natural hair come through. We don't know what we are going to get, but we do know Mother Nature, designed it especially for each and every one of us.

    I will certainly try Fudge Shampoos - I have already bought shampoo and conditioner to brighten white and platinum hair, for now and in readiness for the after bleaching experience! I have watched so many videos I am ready for anything, I hope, lol.

  3. The Mallen streak.Never thought of it on a woman before.It looks good.If you died it black it wouldn't.The colours good and the streaks good.I'll take the one just above the bottom one.She looks like she has a few habits i could get to like..



    1. Cheeky! Lol, you are only saying that because you can't have me ;)

      Happily, I have no problem at all in being told I'm gorgeous (not your exact words)that is, by someone other myself chanting a mantra into a mirror, ha ha.

      I'm presently looking, and feeling, like that bedraggled old cat singing 'Memory' all alone with my memories, 'I was beautiful then' [sighs]. I'm not on the pink gin, but having typed that, a little one might not hurt.

      But I'm not one of those old women embittered at the loss of their looks, I'm just grateful I had them in the first place! I doubt I would have had half the fun if I hadn't. And I have learned, first hand, how differently this world treats you when you are young, slim and gorgeous, and how much that changes when you are not. It's like having loads of money and then having to live as a poor person! Life is cruel!

      I jest, I am actually giggling as I type this, but also thinking what a shame it was I didn't have the wisdom in those early years that I have now. I've often toyed with the idea of writing a letter to my younger self or a advice book of some sort, all those things your mother never told and then some. The major hurdle however, is who would buy an advice book from someone who has got, pretty much everything, so spectacularly wrong! lol. Advice books are usually written by successful people. On the plus side, mine being the opposite, may be it's USP!

      I had to look up Mallen streak, lol. No, it's not one of those, And it is now 2 months on since I took those photos. If I hang on just a few more months I could have the 'ombre' effect, but I don't have the patience. I am again giggling, because if you are anything like my SMS (Smart Arsed Son), you are probably thinking (he was saying out loud) wtf are you talking to me about your hair for! Sadly, my female friends are avoiding me just now, because even they too are fed up with hair talk, ha ha. Tis why I have taken it to my blog!

  4. Don't worry about going grey, you're still a dish.

    1. Bless you JC, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel good :)

      I have always been reluctant to put up pictures, because, in a nutshell, I expose myself so much as it is! I do the opposite of what my mother told me, that is, I always let everyone know what I am thinking! Doh! I'd like to blame it on the Catholic Church, in that I do it in order to keep my conscience clear, but it began long before they got their claws into me. I was a always a chatterbox, and as all chatterboxes know, you have dig deep into your psyche in order keep the chatter going. Any subject will do.

      As well as being narcissistic, I am also very fragile, when I told Smart Arse Son I thought I had body dysmorphia, he said 'so you should', which didn't really help. Unfortunately, my inner teenage girl has grown a love of taking 'selfies'. I even bought a 'selfie' stick (£1), lol. I was mercilessly mocked of course, but all those mocking wanted a go!

      My 'Going Grey Journey' is a half sensible (adult) reason for taking and publishing pictures, not vain at all, lol. I will be putting up some more pics of how my hair is now, almost 5 months in and before the big chop and bleach on Wednesday. I have been nervously scouring the internet for before and after pics of women who have taken 'the plunge', especially 'themakeoverguy' who literally embraces every head put in his hands. It always gives me a sudden yen for a head massage.

      I feel a tad more emboldened now, and hope other grey transitioners will join in discussion. Accepting the grey is something we all have to do at one time or another and every story is interesting when you are going through it.

  5. Hi Rosalinda,
    About the turning grey part of life. Actually it's rather a nice shock (At least to me) of having people offer you their seat on the bus. The reality finally sinks in - in their eyes they see you as old. No getting away from it.

    Just because one is wrestling 4x8 sheets of plywood on to a shopping cart at the local DIY store - it will do you no good when one of the "associates" asks if you need help and you tell him, "that's OK mate it's what I do for a living". You get that look.
    The upside of all this is, as an oldie you can sit on a park bench and blend in.

    I just discovered, (I'm a slow learner) that we are not the same person we were years ago. After a few billion cell changes in the body on the way through life's journey you are somebody else.
    So let's celebrate.
    Although Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde might have something to say about about this.

    It's a nice feeling to know we really are not eternally 16 years old.
    In my tiny brain I used to think 9 was the best of times but that changed forever at 19 and so on.

    Rosalinda I think your blog has an interesting new format even though being an authority on every subject and still be interesting to all your readers is hard work.
    Keep it simple is the best bet. Which you do.

    There was an American writer, - the late Andy Rooney, who started off as a young serviceman writing for the American forces magazine 'Stars and Stripes' during WW11 and later branched off into writing for newspapers, wrote books, and appeared weekly on "60 Minutes".
    This man could write the most amazingly interesting stuff from shoes to a fly on the wall in the most intriguing way.
    Not saying we should all be like him, he was an exception.
    That's all for now.
    Have a nice day.

    1. Hi JC. Eeek, I hadn't given too much thought as to how people will perceive me, once fully transitioned! I'm not even sure if I will be grateful or offended if offered a seat on a bus lol. On the getting old front, I am a fiercely proud and independent woman, I flinch at the idea of being thought decrepit. Much like yourself I suspect JC.

      I kind of liked the 5 year old me, as 'bold' as she was. At that age I did not have the time or patience to bother with washing or combing my hair, ergo washing it was a two adult job. One to hold me down, one to do the washing. My mum in exasperation took me to the hairdressers to have it cut short. I threw such an almighty tantrum in the chair, that I soaked not only myself, but all the hairdressers and most of the customers. My next memory was sitting in a back room waiting for my clothes to dry with my mother telling me the multitude of ways in which she was going to murder me when we got out of there.

      For the past few days I have been in a state of high anxiety - much more than usual. Not quite the kicking, screaming 5 year old (though internally she is in full flight), but more of an OMG, what if tomorrow night I am weeping and wailing 'what have I done?'. I have even thought of googling a 'hair crisis helpline' if there is such a thing, and launching a new business if there isn't.

      I'm going from lush 'chestnut' to Jean Harlow, yikes! To the rest of the world, it's just 'old bird goes white, so what', but to me it's a definitive departure from the 'something wild' part of my personality. My hair has always played a big part in my flirting! I know the effect it had on men when I would sweep it up, and then let it cascade down, I even used the same technique in interviews, and I always got the job, lol.

      But I was a brunette! Apart from a brief sojourn at the turn of the century, when I got my degree and started anew as a blonde. My dear old Irish mum, who swore blind she was descended from Spaniards, had black hair all her life, even to the very end, with the help of local hairdresser, was alarmed when I told her I was 'going blonde'. 'Wot like Lily Savage' she said. Why her mind immediately went to a cross dressing comedian with a pompadour hair do, reduced me to giggles. Yet now, all these years on, that's exactly what I am doing, ha ha.

      I am blessed with so much hair, that I can indeed get my white hair to 'pompadour' heights (I spend an inordinate amount of time in front of my mirror) and have thus far been loving it. Mostly because my current OCD is the Court of Versailles, I am afraid I have abandoned Henry VIII (Jonathon Reys Meyers) for the splendour of Louis XIV! I have watched, and re-watched Versailles over and over, not so much for the storyline, but for it's sheer beauty!

      But I have wandered. I have hit the gin and it's only 1pm. I am calculating that I can drink one, maybe two, more, have a little sing a long with Patsy Cline, pass out, probably throw up, another snooze and voila, ready for the chopping and bleaching tomorrow!

  6. Hi Ros,

    As a 49 year old man who has been married for 22 years I have learnt that when it comes to women and their to stay out of it!
    As a man who has started to go grey himself I can only say to you and everyone else going through it, embrace it, it is who and what we are!. I have a nice chunky beard with a point and the point on my chin is a lovely shade of white, I love it I must admit and get my fair share of kind comments. Google Mel Gibson with the shorter pointy beard and there you have it, though I don`t see it to much myself (I always thought I was more Richard Gere to be honest) the right grey hair in the right style can certainly help to make you look like a movie star (insert crying with laughter emoji here).

    Yours looks lovely Ros and the topic is a nice change.

    Anyhoo, I`m always checking in on your blog as always, and always enjoy your writing.

    Grow old gracefully and enjoy life and be thankful for what you have,and that you are still here, its a blessing!

    Kindest wishes as ever Ros and keep your chin high.


  7. I laughed out loud at your opening statement there AFAN, very wise decision! You are treading on volcanic rocks here, no straight man can give the right answer, lol.

    It cheers me to see that you are a man with a little vra vra voom AFAN, so many men are afraid that it makes them look 'gay' if they spend more than 5 minutes on their appearance before they go out. It's ridiculous, no-one doubts Mick Jagger's heterosexuality, but his casual curls are probably anything but casual.

    Personally, I have a penchant for men who wear bow ties and snazzy waistcoats. At the moment, I am currently bedazzled by Christopher Hopkins (makeoverguy), gay, tis true, but he does exactly as I would if I were a guy, he sports his white tipped beard and white hair with pride.

    I once read somewhere, sadly can't remember where, that the most attractive feature, one that we all fall for above all others, is confidence. Confidence in yourself, or even the appearance of confidence in yourself, is more compelling, more charismatic, and more attractive, than any physical feature. It is more powerful than great hair, a slim frame, an attractive face.

    1. In my going grey journey, I am deeply heartened by the reaction of men. Men I am delighted to learn along this journey, have no problem whatsoever with women going grey or white. In all the stories I have read of women who have 'transitioned', they have increased their popularity with men! Maybe men just can't just be arsed with 'high maintenance women', or maybe men just think, heck we are all growing old, wtf. And maybe they want realism. A woman who says, yeah, I'm over 60, so what?

      I've always separated men into two groups. Shock horror! Men who love women and men who don't. The men who love women sadly, are very much in the minority, if you find one, march him up the aisle even if it takes shotguns! Most women, and sadly I am among them, don't realise until much later in life, how precious the 'men who love women' are. When you wear a tight dress, the 'bad' guy will point out the squidgy bits, a good guy will say, I love those squidgy bits and probably give each and every one of them an affectionate kiss.

      As an old Marxist/Feminist (never a man hater), my faith in, and aw shucks, love of men, has been mightily restored in my going grey journey. Happily most men are not half so shallow as most women perceive them to be. I chuckle as I type this, because I know, for sure, my dear old dad (who discovered Grecian 2000 in the 50's) would be saying 'for heavens sake Linda sort your hair out!'. He knew, bless him, that having great hair was the key to happiness, he was way beyond his time, bless him.

      I am just now trying my best to remain sane. Not easy for a manic depressive, neurotic in these turbulent times. I am so afraid, I keep turning to the gin or anything that will distract me. As a child imprisoned in a convent, most of the reading material I had from the book case in the visitor's room, was pretty bizarre and diverse, in levels of cruelty that is. From 'A Pilgrim's Progress' - I have never yet in the real world met anyone else who has read that, lol, to Exodus (I began wearing a Star of David) to Auschwitz. At the tender age of 12/13, I wept for humanity, unable to bear that man could be so cruel to man. The more I read, the more I learned, the more I wept. It was probably the first of many breakdowns. I simply could not cope with the cruelty of the world around me.

      I was very fortunate in that I had a Dad who was a trained psychiatric nurse and way ahead of his time on the psychology front. He was able to steer and guide me away from the stuff he knew I couldn't handle. He is gone now but I continue his techniques, as best I can. I pursue subjects that will distract me enough to keep the demons at bay.

      Bless you for your good wishes AFAN. Today especially as it is the day before the big, big, change and I am nervous as a kitten! Hopefully, I will have some good pics to post tomorrow night!