"I'm transitioning!"
That's what I'm telling people.
From dyed black hair to my (now) growing natural white hair. Embracing middle age. Anyone who thinks middle age is 50, is delusional. It's not the average to live 100 years. More like 80. Late 30's to mid 40's, welcome to middle age.
What caused my hair to start going white in my teens? Who knows. Lack of melanin?
Why am I wearing a headband? Because my hair is cut very short. And my hair is very thick. So now my hair is very fluffy. Like a bunny. If I don't wear a headband my fluffy bunny hair will get thoroughly out of control.
It's just hair, but I'm adjusting to the transition. We're talking stark contrast from many years of dyed black hair to (the now growing) natural white hair. I haven't seen my natural hair color, in full length, for a very long time. The last time I saw my natural hair color, it actually HAD color in it.
I envision when all the black dye is cut off, my hair will start looking like Anderson Cooper, and/or Lucky Blue Smith, in about two months, expectantly growing out to at least shoulder length by summer, but I could be wrong?
Until my natural hair grows out, and all the dyed black hair is cut off, I'm being antisocial. Extremely antisocial.
In the event "something happens" as occasions do tend to arrive at the most inconvenient times, I need find a way to explain, "Look, I'm transitioning!" That's why I picked the winter months to make the change.
Why don't I bleach my hair lighter until my natural color grows out?
Because I don't want to. That's why.
I was hoping (perhaps a little) there was some Auburn color left, but it's not looking very likely.
My hair is very fluffy.
Sometimes while drinking a cup of tea, I'll run my fingers through the short hairs on the back of my head. I pet myself. Is that weird?
Probably. I've done weirder.
Maybe I'll change my "name" from Simone Gordon, to Anderson Blue.
Sounds very gay porn.
"I'm transitioning!"
Half my life is gone.
What a long strange journey it's been.
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