strands of grey



The first.

Right up front. 

I've never really had the kind of hair that stirs jealousy. It's fine and won't hold a curl for anything (just ask the perm of 1988). But the colour has won the admiration of many a stylist. They tell me I would be rich if I could bottle it. 

Now, grey.

I found it during a final glance in the mirror on my way to a much-needed night out. I always thought I'd be a panicky mess. It's what we're supposed to feel, right? But I was running late and didn't have time to dwell.

Later, as I took in the sight of my smiling, vibrant, funny, intelligent, colour-treated friends, I felt nothing more than different than I was before.

I don't have a joke to crack or a cliche to share. No arghs or ughs or eeks.

It doesn't define me and yet it does.

My grandmother wore her crown of silver hair like a queen. The colour of her hair told a part of her story.

And now one strand begins a new chapter in mine.


 If you landed on this post thinking I was going to talk about Shades of Grey -- go here.


Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and content editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They have been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman's Day, and Flow magazines, TEDxRegina, and on CBC News and Radio. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.