Gray Matter(s)

A few months ago, I blogged that I was planning on becoming a natural beauty. This meant, that with retirement, the need for manicures and colorists had gone by the wayside. I feel strongly about that. I was resolute in my thinking that one should always look the part. I spent my whole life in the appropriate style.


Step into the way back machine with me ~


As a child, I wore school uniforms, and when I was finally allowed to go to public school, an ambition I'd long had, I segued into the the same look my peers worked so hard for. Back then,(the sixties) I had girlfriends who already attended public school groom me into a 'cool' high school coed. (BOYS ! who knew??) with that came teased hair, white lipstick and very short skirts.


Then came motherhood and marriage, and of course, the requisite uniform of the day - painters paints or jeans and a tshirt with formula stains on the shoulders. That lasted a few years and then came, (wait for it)


DISCO!



Designer jeans, silky shirts, platform shoes and dance lessons. Music I hope I never hear again.



Then as my children grew older and busier,and my marriage fell apart, I went back to school. A catholic school, but no uniforms, thankfully, or I would've gone to plan "B"



I went back and graduated as a certified surgical technician. Landing in the operating room, thrilled to be there and had no qualms whatsoever about driving to work in sweats to jump into scrubs and sterile gowns. Life was easy !


I ended up in scrubs for 25 years. Loved it. Eventually I went into private practice: cosmetic surgery and vision correction. Less anguish, more money. There was a lot of front work in that field, it was, basically, retail medicine. Thus, the need for colorists and manicures. I went full circle in my lifetime.


But, now, I get to be grandma, and my little Luca thinks I am the greatest! Grandma is fun to climb on, breaks all the rules and will give him whatever he wants, (within reason) whenever he wants it.  The requisite uniform for this happy task, is, once again, jeans, Uggs, soft shirts and comfort.


So who cares if my hair is gray and I am without make-up or manicures?


Evidently, everyone!


I wish my family and friends would organize their interventions instead of painfully picking me apart on a one on one basis. I have heard from all sides that I must get to a salon and pull myself together. The holidays are coming, parties, plans and we must look our best. I guess the gray hair and the ragged nails make me look older, which is not the gold standard.


I'm very comfortable in my retirement, I like being this age !  Why can't I look it? Better yet, why can't I find the gumption to stand up to these people who love me so much?


(Oops, there it is, I've said "gumption") now, that's enough to drive me to the fountain of  youth ! 


I've made the appointments already.